Searching for You
by BlondeChick2009
Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

**Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!**

A/N: This is only the Prologue to a much longer story, so please don't think this is how long each chapter will be. I'll try and have the first chapter up tomorrow. Until then, reviews are much appreciated! **IMPORTANT INFO: Please don't be put off by the prologue, since it doesn't specify characters, everything will tie in in the end. I promise you that :P **

* * *

**Prologue**

"Mummy, will you read a bedtime story to me?" a young girl inquired of her busy mother.

The older of the two females looked down into her daughter's brown eyes, and then glanced back at her work, sighing. This report was never going to finish itself, sadly enough, but the young mother always vowed that she would put her children before everything; which included work.

"Of course, Love," she answered as she rose from her chair and followed the jubilant girl to the vast bookshelf, "What will it be tonight? Plato? Socrates?"

"No mummy," the little girl laughed, "Read me a princess story!"

"Are you sure? You might be getting to brilliant for mere kiddy tales, darling," the mother smiled, remarking the curly hair brunette's incredible aptitude for knowledge and reading.

"I'm sure," the girl said, "I want a tale of a princess in need of her brave and handsome prince."

"All right, how about Snow White?"

At this suggestion, the little girl shook her head.

"Okay," her mother said, rummaging through the shelves further, "What about Sleeping Beauty?"

Again, the girl shook her head.

"Cinderella?"

Once more came the same blunt refusal.

"Hmmm, you're being as stubborn as your father, you know that don't you?"

The little girl grinned at her father, who sat reading the paper on the other side of the room. He looked up and winked. "More like as stubborn as your mum," he whispered, feigning sneakiness.

"I heard that!"

Their daughter laughed happily at their funny argument. She knew they were only joking.

"How about the tale of the Princess who kissed the Frog?" The girl snapped her head back to her mother, her brow raised skeptically.

"Mummy!" she sounded absolutely appalled, "Princesses don't kiss _frogs_!"

"Now how do you know that?"

"Well, have you ever kissed a frog?" the girl demanded in a huff.

"You might say that I have," quipped the woman knowingly, "Your Dad was quite the grouchy wart before I married him."

"Oh, ha, ha," they heard from behind the paper. Both girls bent their heads together in hushed giggles.

"The point is, my dear," she continued to explain to her curious little one, "Love comes in the strangest forms, and we shouldn't be so quick to judge what we first see. Someone may first seem cold and prickly, but may turn out warm and cuddly."

The woman decided not to tell her that this concept worked vice versa, wishing not to bother her innocence with the fact that there were deceivers in the world. Besides, given her daughter's adeptness, she was sure she'd figured this out already.

"I suppose you're right mummy," the girl mumbled, "All I know is that I want a kind and handsome man to marry me someday. Someone who will treat me right. Someone who will let me cry on his shoulders, and then wipes the tears away. Someone who will laugh and smile with me, and take equal care of my babies. He'll be a gentleman."

Her mother stared in wonder down at her serious daughter. She was used to this sort of thing, but it still filled her with awe when the five year old exuded wisdom beyond her years. Of course, as parents, she and her husband always instilled that men should respect women, and women should do the same to men, but it never exceeded beyond simple etiquette; things such as "Please" and Thank you" or, no hitting or name-calling. The girl spoke as if she'd been through the hellfire of a disastrous relationship and refused to tread those waters again. As if she was just waiting for her daring prince to rescue her.

"And you should wait for just that," she nodded, "Never settle for less than your truest love, sweetie."

The tiny girl shook her head in agreement, and then smiled.

Her mother glanced back at her husband, who was surveying their daughter with the same intensity she had been showing. He met his wife's gaze and gave her the tiniest of smiles before returning to his paper.

The mother cleared her throat. "All right, are you ready for your story?"

"Yes mummy, I'm ready to hear of the frog." Her mother stood to reach the particular book. As she did so, the girl whispered to herself, smiling, "I'm ready to hear of the prince."


	2. Felix, Edward, and Tristan

**Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!**

A/N: Chapter 1! I own nothing but those three who are in the title of the Chapter :P Please read and review, even if it's just like, three words or something :P Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Felix, Edward, and Tristan**

Hermione yawned and stretched. Long legs protruded from beneath a freshly laundered blanket. Her eyes blinked open and stared at the plain white ceiling of her and Ginny's room in Grimmauld Place.

She frowned. It had only been a dream again. Images of herself as a princess in a tale where true love was only a page away danced in her mind's eye.

Ever since she was five years old, her most favorite princess tale had been of the one who had kissed the frog. Her mother often told her the story, and she knew that she would do the same for her daughters.

However, despite it's childlike innocence and important life lesson, Hermione remained as cynical as ever. She didn't believe that looks could be as deceiving as the story so easily suggested. But then, she had always failed to see the colors between the conventional black and white she chose to believe in.

She sighed in frustration as the dream images refused to leave her alone. She knew why she had the dreams. They cropped up whenever she had a particular rough day. Whenever she felt lonely or ignored, she'd fall asleep knowing they would come. And while they brought a sense of comfort while she was in deep slumber, they only served to taunt her when she awoke.

It got kind of depressing after a while, actually. Knowing that, after her eyes opened, it would all melt away. But it was all for the best, really. She never got to see her prince when he decided to show up. Either she'd wake up at that precise moment, or he'd be a vague outline, something seen but unrecognizable. And he didn't talk either. Never a single noise was uttered from his lips.

She worried that this might foreshadow her life when things got really disheartening. Especially when Harry and Ron became exceptionally brooding after failing to find a Death Eater, or the adults refused to include the younger members of the Order in on their schemes. She worried that she'd never find true happiness, and her life would be nothing but work.

That's when she became angry. "Oh get a grip you silly ninny," she growled under her breath, shoving the quilt aside, "You know dreams are nothing more than entertainment when sleep gets too boring! Why are you analyzing them now?"

She shuffled into the adjoining bathroom and brushed her teeth and hair. After a shower, she came back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, contemplating her plans for the day. First, she wanted to track down Harry and Ron and ask them if any news had popped up during the night. Next, she wanted to ask Mrs. Weasley if she needed any assistance cleaning the old house. She'd get Ginny to help to, even if she threw a fit. Finally, she'd see if the boys had returned from their mission.

At the thought of the three young men, Hermione smiled a small, shy smile, almost as if they were here greeting her.

Felix Benton, Edward Greene, and Tristan Aldridge were three of the Order's newest members. They had all gone to Hogwarts, but were two years older than Harry, Ron and Hermione, and were Ravenclaw students, so hardly knew the Trio on a personal level.

However, they had all taken immediate interest in the adventures Harry, Ron and Hermione had been on, and were eager to join the fight against Voldemort.

Hermione smiled again, reflecting on the boys. Felix was an intellectual much like her. He enjoyed reading anything he could get his hands on, and often helped the Order with the finer details in their plan making. He had brown hair, a smooth tan face, and celery colored eyes with deeper green flecks. He was very kind to everyone, laughing along with jokes and helping anyone who needed it. He was someone you either loved, or hated, there was no in-between where Felix was concerned, and Hermione liked him very much.

Edward was equally as smart, but he was someone who'd rather act on impulse before thinking everything through. And while Hermione thought this quite reckless, she couldn't help but envy him for his confidence. His daring made it seem like he had fun with life. He never worried about the small things, just went where life may take him. He had black hair, like Harry's, but it fell straight, and wasn't messy. His color was paler than that of Felix's, but his face was more taut and defined, whereas Felix's was soft. His eyes were sapphire blue and the irises were rimmed with black.

Then there was Tristan. Hermione scrutinized his figure in her head. He was just a tad taller than the other two, who were tall to begin with, about six foot three. He was leaner than Edward—who was not big by any means, just more muscled—but not as gangly as Felix. He was also much more reserved, deciding to keep his opinions to himself unless the situation deemed them necessary. Hermione knew in her heart that he was brilliant (he wouldn't have made Ravenclaw otherwise), but his silence made him appear slow. He often had a faraway look in his pale eyes, which were a hazel color, and it took a while to pull him from his daydreams. His shoulder length hair was copper colored and silky in looks.

Hermione sighed. He _was_ a mysterious boy, but this made him all the more alluring. She wished she knew more about him as a person, and not just the facts that were told to her by Felix and Edward. She was so immersed in her confused thoughts she didn't notice Ginny watching her.

"Thinking about Trissy again?"

"Ginny!" Hermione jumped, "What? No! And don't call him that!"

"Oh, you know you were," Ginny grinned mischievously, "And I'll call him what I like!"

"How did you know?" Hermione decided to surrender, knowing it would be fruitless to deny it again.

"You always get all quiet and," here Ginny thought for the correct word, "_penetrating, _when you try to figure him out."

"Do I really?"

"Yep."

"Well that's wonderful, do you think anyone's noticed?"

She tried to phrase it so that it sounded as if she were asking if he had noticed. Relief sunk in when Ginny shook her head.

"He's too drowned in his own head to notice anything that goes on," she muttered, "But I think Ron and Harry have noticed."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Great, no wonder they seem more possessive when I'm around the others."

"Aw, they're just looking after their best friend!" Ginny mocked what her brother would say.

Hermione laughed. Those two had seemed extra clingy lately. Oh well.

"Anyway, I don't know why you're worried about him when Felix is so obviously dying for you to go out with him."

"WHAT?"

"Like you didn't know, Hermione," was all the red head answered.

"That's…I mean—he's not—_really_?" she ended in a breathy sigh.

"Oh you make me sick. Of course he's into you, you're nearly the only on who can follow what spews from his mouth. But," the younger girl added, standing to leave, "I'd much rather spend time with Edward."

"Ginny! What about Harry?"

"Don't get your pocket protector in a bunch," Ginny teased, "I'd never hurt Harry! But Edward is always hanging around me, trying to solve the enigma that is meh-wah." She over enunciated, and exited the room before sticking her head back through the door. "And between you and me, if the inevitable ever happens and Harry and I don't work out," Ginny grinned evilly, "Edward can pick my lock any day."

She laughed as Hermione threw her pillow at her face.

Hermione rolled her eyes and stood to follow her. She couldn't wait to see if there was any news, or if Tristan and the others had returned from their mission, which was unclear to Hermione. She knew they had to do a bit of spy work the previous night, but she didn't know the extent of the job.

All these thoughts jumbled through her head as she bounced down the stairs. But none of them compared to what Ginny had divulged about Felix. If what she said were true, Hermione couldn't wait to see him. But at the same time, she was a bit nervous. As she thought hard about what to do, an image of Tristan flashed across her eyes. _What about him, though? He seems so alone sometimes. I know _I_ do_. _He's just so intriguing. I should definitely try and get to know him better._

"ARRGHH!"

Hermione reached the bottom stair, where her foot caught the end of the banister. She flung her arms forward as she careened around the side of the adjacent corner. Her eyes, which had been screwed shut in preparation for the landing, flew open when she felt herself collide with a person.

Both bodies stumbled against the troll leg umbrella holder, and crashed to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs. Sirius's mother's portrait immediately began screeching about dirty half-breeds invading her noble house, and Hermione lay panting, afraid to look at whoever she had just incapacitated.

However, she quickly looked at the person when he started laughing hysterically. "My goodness Hermione! And here I was expecting this corner to be the only one without danger lurking around it."

Hermione's face burned as she scrambled away from Edward, whose eyes were still alight with mirth.

"I'm so, so sorry, Edward. I should have been paying more attention. Are you okay? You're not hurt are you? Do you need any first aid? I can—,"

"Really Hermione, I'm quite all right," Edward said, standing up, "But if you're so determined to heal me, I think mouth to mouth might do the trick."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Wha—What?" she stammered, panicking slightly.

"I'm only kidding! Sheesh! I think you need the medical attention Miss Granger. Allow me to escort to Mrs. Weasley, who I know can help you."

Again, the burning in her face.

"I'm fine thanks," she mumbled, "But I am sorry about that."

"It's all good," he beamed, "But do help me shut this crazy bat up."

It took Hermione a minute to realize that Sirius's dear mum was still wailing about Mudbloods. She ran up the stairs after Edward and helped him pull the curtain back over the loud-mouthed woman.

"There!" Edward puffed as they finally muffled the noise, "She never ceases to entertain me, that one."

Hermione scowled. "Well I could do without her."

"Oh, I could too," he agreed, "But sometimes things get too quiet and grave around here."

Hermione studied him while he double-checked the curtain. "You're right," she suddenly concurred. "Things do get pretty grim."

Sensing the change in her tone, Edward stared at her. "What's the matter?"

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing at all."

Edward continued his thoughtful gaze until his attention was diverted by Ginny who came rushing around the corner.

"Edward!" She cried and leapt into his arms. He stood there for a moment, bemused at what had just happened. He patted Ginny's back a bit awkwardly before she let go. Harry and Ron had followed her, both looking menacingly at Edward.

"I see you're back," Harry said flatly.

"Yes, and we have news," Edward returned just as tonelessly.

"Then I guess we'll meet you in the Dining Room," Ron deadpanned as his hand gripped Ginny's wrist and dragged her along. This usually would have set Ginny off, but she was too overcome with excitement to be rebellious.

Harry continued to glare at Edward before following.

"Well, that was joyous," Edward grumbled derisively.

"Oh, he's just being protective," Hermione supplied.

" More like being jealous," he snorted.

"Yeah, well, I guess we better go after them," Hermione sped to change the subject.

"Okay, let's go."

As they walked, Hermione's curiosity overcame the idiocy of the recent events. "What exactly were you, Tristan, and Felix doing last night?"

Edward grimaced. "We were assigned a spy mission."

Hermione's expression matched his own. Why was he being so secretive all of the sudden. She hesitated before asking further. "Yes, I know. But where?"

Edward sighed and stopped. He turned and looked at her, visibly debating on whether or not he should tell her.

"You might as well spit it out," she pressed in a hushed tone, "You have to present your findings anyway!"

"Fine," he snapped angrily, and Hermione was surprised at his sudden hostility, "We had to scope out Malfoy Manor."


	3. Finding Him

**Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!**

A/N: So, here's Chapter 2. Chapter three might be a little longer since I'm still getting a few ideas straightened out, but, it shouldn't be too long. And this chapter might seem a bit dull, but I had to get all of the information out there. Hope you enjoy anyways :)

**

* * *

****Chapter 2: Finding **_**Him**_

Hermione stood, a look of utter horror frozen to her face. Edward threw her an _I knew you wouldn't want to know_ look.

"Bu—But that's—that's too dangerous!" she stuttered squeakily.

"You don't think I don't know that?" Edward sighed. "Look, Hermione, we can take care of ourselves. It's not as bad as you're making it out to be, honestly."

"NOT AS BAD? _NOT AS BAD?_ YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT SNEAKING AROUND A FULLY OPERATIONAL DEATH EATER HEADQUARTERS ISN'T _BAD?_"

At this point, Mrs. Black's portrait had started again and Edward was hastily trying to shush Hermione.

"NO…WAIT, YOU'RE RIGHT! I'TS NOT AS BAD AS I'M MAKING IT OUT TO BE! IT'S A THOUSAND TIMES WORSE!"

"Hermione, umm Hermione, will you relax?" Edward's face was beginning to show signs of embarrassment, especially when the entirety of the house's occupants came to see what the ruckus was about.

"DON'T TELL ME TO RELAX! YOU COULD HAVE DIED! ALL**.** BLOODY**.** THREE**.** OF**.** YOU!"

Hermione accentuated each word with a strike to anywhere she could reach on Edward.

Normally this little display would have amused Edward, and he would simply have laughed in her face. But with his two best friends looking on in a mixture shock and contempt, and not to mention Harry and Ron laughing at his predicament, Edward truly wanted to be rid of the crazy brunette.

He grabbed her wrists and pulled her close and yelled, "Hermione will you PLEASE get a grip?"

She stopped struggling enough to yank herself away from him. She stepped back and sent a searing look straight at him. "You have a _lot _of explaining to do…all three of you."

She threw pointed looks at Felix, who shrunk under her fierceness, and Tristan, who cocked his eyebrow, obviously unthreatened and bored by her demand.

"Um, Hermione dear?" Hermione spun around to find a nervous looking Mrs. Weasley standing behind her. "Why don't you go upstairs, I'll bring you some tea and—,"

"No thank you," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "I'd rather hear about their _adventure_."

"Oh, erm, okay then," Mrs. Weasley was obviously trying not to mother Hermione, "Then why don't you head into the Dining Room, and we'll be ready shortly."

Hermione nodded curtly before sending Edward a final glare. She stalked off into the next room, followed closely by Ginny, who was berating her for her outburst, and Ron and Harry who were complimenting her.

"Well, er, that was—that was," Felix's voice dropped away. He didn't really know how to describe it. He knew Hermione could get plenty upset, but he'd never seen that kind of hysteria pulsing from her before. She seemed genuinely terrified about whatever Edward had told her. And he was positive he knew what that was.

Edward was still standing there, completely dumbstruck by Hermione's reaction. Tristan turned and walked towards the Dining Room without a word.

Sirius was the only attempting to silence his mother; you could here the occasional "Shut up!" and curse word coming from the landing above them.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and signaled for them to head to the Dining Room.

Upon entering, Edward steered clear from the still vehement Hermione, instead taking his seat between Tristan and Ron. Ron, clearly displeased with this arrangement, turned to his other side and spoke quietly with Harry. Ginny, who also look peeved at Edward's choice, grumbled and put her head down on the table at her place on Harry's other side.

Hermione sat diagonal from Ginny, at the opposite end from Edward. Felix approached the table and sat down warily beside her. She nearly smiled, remembering Ginny's earlier news. Apparently her portrayal of a loony madwoman did little to alter his feelings about her.

After the rest of the Order trooped in and took the remaining chairs, Sirius stood and gave a brief description of Felix, Edward, and Tristan's job.

"Last night at precisely nine o'clock p.m., these three young men entered the grounds to Malfoy Manor. For the first hour, all they did was scope out possible threats to any future invasions. Next, they split up and hid in various places around the manor itself. For the rest of their mission, they spied on the Death Eaters, making notes about their observations. Care to report your findings?"

Tristan nodded at Felix who stood. "Broaching the Malfoys' grounds was quite simple. After using every Detection Spell we knew, Edward triggered our Sneakoscope, to discover that all active Death Eaters were within the manor."

"Once we were sure there was no magical security, we placed Dellusionment Charms on ourselves, and entered the premises. Yes, Ginny?"

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't You-Know-Who have spells coating his biggest hideout?"

Edward piped up at this question. "That's what we wondered as well. In fact, we were becoming distressed that the job was so simple. We believe that You-Know-Who thinks that no one in their right mind would dare approach besides Death Eaters. And then Tristan pointed out another plausible explanation."

He sat down and allowed Tristan to pick up the report. Hermione stared intently at Tristan, excited about what he had to say, since he hardly ever had anything to say at all.

"I think that Voldemort is too proud to install security measures. He's almost daring anyone and everyone to come uninvited and challenge his power."

The room was silent, unfazed by his use of Voldemort's name, since they were transfixed by the grace with which Tristan spoke. His voice was light and airy, yet it commanded attention. He spoke above whisper, but no one needed his volume any louder.

"He's clearly flaunting his power, instilling all of his…_faith…_in his Death Eaters' abilities. Besides, he thinks himself the most powerful wizard now that Dumbledore is dead."

Hermione felt herself nodding in agreement, past all prior discontent. Tristan's point was a valid one. Voldemort would hate the thought of being protected by silly charms.

"Anyways," Felix regained control of the conversation, "We only found a few hindrances that may cause problems if we were to ever enter. On the east side of the property, there is a small, but concentrated campsite, which after further inspection, turned out to house Death Eaters. Apparently only the Malfoys and Voldemort's inner circle are allowed to live in the house."

"How many tents would you say?" Ron asked.

"About twenty, one or two Death Eaters per tent. So we are thinking a possibility of forty Death Eaters on any given night. However, on the west side is a small forest, which has little wizarding activity. It'd be perfect for sneaking in, but since there was some sort of celebration or something going on inside, we don't know if the area is patrolled regularly or not."

Sirius nodded. "I would think so. Even if Voldemort despises charms, he's not completely stupid. He'd not want thousands of wizards flocking in."

Tristan spoke up again. "Very true. We found a few things to suggest that the area was patrolled somewhat, but not nearly enough to say it's done every night."

Edward stood again. "The north and south sides are just gardens. There are some Peacocks, but they're not magical as far as we could tell. So, yeah, the outsides pretty accessible."

"After we did this, we split up. I took the back of the house, Tristan took the front, and Felix took the side. The other side hardly containing any windows, we felt it didn't need too much surveillance. At the end of the night, Tristan and Felix reported nothing."

"And yourself?" Harry encouraged, his curiosity outweighing hostility.

I saw something interesting…but…" He seemed loath to continue. He looked around the table, fighting an inner battle. When he found Hermione's eyes, she nodded and smiled apologetically.

He took a deep breath. "While this assembly thing was going on, Voldemort chose a few Death Eaters to go somewhere with him. They apparated and didn't return. I don't know where they went, but no one inside seemed bothered by it, so I didn't dwell on the matter."

"After a few minutes, Lucius entered the room (having left earlier for reasons yet unknown), followed by Bellatrix. He confronted his wife about something, and they were having a pretty big row from what I could see. Lucius turned from her and made to go across the room, but she grabbed his arm in effort to stop him, but he slapped her."

"Bellatrix did nothing to stop his behavior, which I found odd considering her affection for Narcissa, and instead followed Lucius to the other side of the room where Draco sat, watching in shock."

"Words were exchanged between the three of them. Aggressive words from the look of it. Lucius rounded on Draco, and struck him with some sort of spell. It didn't look too serious, just enough to knock Draco off of his feet. Anyway, he and Bellatrix then took turns hexing Draco. Things began to look grim when Narcissa came over to help her son, but they dispatched her with a Stunning Spell. Draco didn't like that and landed some spells of his own, before they over took him."

All eyes were on Edward, shocked and anxious to hear what happened next.

"Then they were using the Cruciatus Curse, I could tell that much…I could hear him," Edward winced at the memory and Hermione gasped at the revelation that Lucius would torture his own son. As much as she detested Malfoy, she couldn't _not_ be shocked on his behalf.

"After that, they levitated him outside and just left him there. They put him in the forest, which is on the side none of us were watching. When they went back in, I went to see if he were still alive. He was, but he was…a mess. He was just…" Edward trailed off, swallowing hard.

Felix stood up to save his friend the trouble. "Tristan and I eventually came around to regroup when we found Edward. He explained what happened. I had seen some sort of disturbance between the Malfoy's, but didn't expect this. We levitated Draco to a safer spot, but made it look like he had woken up and dragged himself in an opposite direction."

"Wha—you just left him there?"

Shocked eyes landed on Hermione.

"Of course, why would we bring him here?" Felix frowned.

"Because he's hurt and possibly dying! You could have brought him here, we could have helped him somehow!"

"Hermione, you do know this is Malfoy, right?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes, I'm well aware of who we're discussing Harry," she spat waspishly, "But he's a person! Isn't the whole point of the Order to help people? He may be a foul person, but still!"

To her surprise, the only person looking at her in approval was Tristan. She frowned at him, questioning his demeanor.

"I thought you'd say that, Hermione. I agree. The only reason we did that was to avoid potential problems between the Order and Voldemort. Who's to say we weren't being watched? I wanted to get everyone's opinion before acting."

Hermione, who felt frustrated and compassionate tears stinging her eyes, mouthed small thanks in his direction. No one else seemed to understand her point. No matter how mean Malfoy was, no matter how arrogant and nasty, he had never done anything grotesquely wrong. It seemed his whole involvement with Voldemort was due to his parents.

Sirius stood. "I think, that we should do something about this matter. Malfoy could prove a valuable well of information."

"Um, Sirius, do you really think that he would tell us anything?" Harry asked in amazement.

"Well even if he didn't he could be used as a bargaining chip."

"But that wouldn't be very likely though would it? I mean, his family virtually left him for dead." Ginny grimly stated.

"Yes, but you're forgetting Narcissa," Mrs. Weasley said, "He's her only child and time again she's proven that she's only wished to protect him. She just can't escape Lucius's grasp."

"But she was the perfect patch of roses when we met her Madame Malkin's that time," interjected Ron sardonically.

"I'm not saying she isn't cold or cruel, I'm merely saying that she's a mother who loves her son."

"So is it agreed?"

Unanimous "yes's" could be heard.

"Then I want three people to go retrieve Malfoy and bring him back for medical attention. If things are too grisly, we'll take him to St. Mungo's."

Hermione immediately volunteered to help get him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Harry, I'm sure."

"He doesn't deserve it."

"I know, but I can't just leave him there."

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry, but I can't do it."

Hermione smiled at him. "That's okay."

In the end it was decided that she, Tristan and Sirius would locate Malfoy.

* * *

It took about three hours to arrive at the Manor, since they had no wish to apparate onto unsuspecting Death Eaters. Once there, the three of them snuck around to the forest where Tristan said Malfoy was.

"We placed him a sort of cave," he whispered, checking constantly for Death Eaters.

Sirius motioned that he would go one way, and they should go the other. Hermione followed Tristan closely, afraid of whom might be behind every tree. _I wonder why he doesn't remember where the cave is? _

Almost as if he had heard her thoughts, Tristan muttered, "This would be a hell of a lot easier if it were night. Everything would be more recognizable."

They continued their search. It had been agreed that if they found nothing in the hour, they should immediately apparate home.

Fifteen minutes remained for them to find Malfoy. Hermione was in frenzy. She was afraid of what they would find if they did locate Malfoy and what would happen if _they_ were found. Almost hyperventilating from anxiety, she didn't notice when Tristan stopped suddenly, and ran right into him.

He threw out an arm to steady her. When his skin brushed hers, Hermione felt a rush of cool tranquility rush over her. It was as if he had wiped away her fears.

"This area looks familiar," he whispered, apparently feeling nothing, "You search over there, I'll look over here."

"Right," she nodded.

Ten minutes left. Hermione sped up her rummaging. Her instincts wanted her out of here, but her head kept chanting, "find Malfoy" over and over. The mantra was making her rather dizzy.

Suddenly she tripped over a branch. When she opened her eyes, she was looking at an arm. Scrambling to her feet, she moved a bush to the left…and nearly fainted.

Draco Malfoy was alive. But barely. Dried blood caked his body, and his robes were a torn mess. Tears assaulted Hermione's vision. She reached out slowly and touched his face. His eyes fluttered open and he stared up at her, no doubt confused.

She stared back, feeling the pity resonate from her body. She knew he'd hate it, but she couldn't help herself.

As realization dawned on him, Malfoy narrowed his eyes and turned his head away, but not before she heard him mutter, "Sodding Mudblood."

As though branded, Hermione's hand jerked away from his cheek. She stood slowly, shaking in anger. She cast one more disgusted glance at his broken body, before turning slowly and walking away.


	4. An Ardurous Assignment

**Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!**

A/N: Yeah! Chapter 3! This one was so fun to write. And I also hope you all notice that this is the same story, despite the different summary. Enjoy! And please, pretty please review! :P

* * *

** Chapter 3: An Arduous Assignment**

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up from the book she was currently reading as she sat, nestled into her favorite armchair in the whole house. It was tucked away in a small sitting area on the third level of the structure, which hosted a decent amount of privacy from the hustle and bustle of the tenants.

She raised a questioning eyebrow towards the source of the voice. Finally a face appeared from around the banister, linking owner to sound. Felix stood there, rather sheepishly at having interrupted her during her reading, knowing he would hate if someone did the same to him, and gave a nervous smile in greeting.

Hermione felt herself return his smile. She didn't mind that he interrupted. Since recent events, she had found it difficult to lose herself in the pages of her absolute favorite book, _Hogwarts, A History._

"What is it, Felix?" She asked kindly.

Realizing that she was perfectly peaceful, he gained a bit of courage. "Sirius was wondering if her could speak to you for a minute."

Hermione bit her lip, suspecting where this was going. She drummed her fingers against the cover of the book and sighed. "Sure," she finally gave in.

Felix led the way to the kitchen, taking care to be quiet while passing Mrs. Black. He opened the door and held it for Hermione to enter, uttering a small "Good luck."

Hermione flinched at that. It seemed Felix knew where this was going too. She sat down at the small table, watching Kreature scramble between the stove and pantry. She smiled suddenly, recalling how Kreature once behaved towards his "masters". Hermione hated that he still served them, but was glad that he was a much happier elf, and seemed to enjoy the wizards' company.

She didn't see Sirius anywhere, and was beginning to worry that Felix had gotten the room wrong, when the door opened and he entered.

"Ah, Hermione, I was wondering where you were," Sirius said as he sat down beside her, "Kreature, could you give us a moment?"

Kreature nodded at once and bowed a great, low bow, before exiting. Sirius stood and began pacing, "I'm not sure how to ask you this, Hermione," he began in a distracted voice.

"I have a pretty good idea what you want me to do, Sirius, but…I'm not sure I can deal with it."

"I know, I know. But no one else will do it…I've tried everything. Asking them to take shifts, or share jobs, but they won't budge. Believe me, if I had the time to do it, I would! But most of us are in and out of the house working on jobs and such, that I can't."

Sirius looked at her with tired eyes and all at once Hermione felt bad that she was being complicated. Sirius did so much for each of them, and she knew most of the men worked throughout the day, taking care of the Order. Pus, she rarely had any hard tasks herself.

Sirius continued, "And I really didn't want to ask you, because I know how much stress he puts you under, but you're my last choice, Hermione, otherwise, he'll be sent to St. Mungo's where he'll be picked up by the Death Eaters once the Healers contact them."

"What about Mrs. Weasley, or Ginny?" She asked in a last ditch effort, knowing that it was all in vain.

"You know I can't ask Molly, she already works so hard to support all of us. And Ginny has about as much patience to fill a thumbtack. Besides, she's always too busy fawning after that Edward."

Hermione winced at Sirius's harshness. Apparently Ginny's antics were upsetting more than just she and Harry.

"Please, Hermione. Just, watch him…make sure he's as comfortable as possible. Just, don't let him treat you like a house elf."

"I highly doubt he'll treat me like a goddess," Hermione grumbled, "But I'll try." And she meant it. No matter how unappealing a task was she'd always stick to it.

The relief was practically radiating off of Sirius when she accepted the job. "Thank you so much, Hermione. I'll see to it that if you ever need help, someone will be there."

Hermione nodded her thanks, still dreading what was next.

"Here, I'll show you to his room."

* * *

A few minutes later, Hermione was standing outside of a closed door on the second floor, holding a tray of hot water, towels, and a glass of water. Sirius had given her instructions to clean Malfoy up and see if she could get him to drink anything. She wasn't thrilled, to say the least, at the prospect of cleansing Malfoy, but she knew that she couldn't back out now.

She pushed the door open a crack and poked her head through to find Malfoy sleeping. _Great. Now I'll have to wake him. Too bad. He's much more appealing when he's not smirking…or talking._

Hermione tiptoed into the room and conjured up a chair beside his bed. Hesitating slightly, she used her wand to siphon the dried blood away from his body. He stirred uncomfortably, but did not wake. Hermione wondered why no one had done this when they brought him back the day before. Then the truth hit her. None of them could be bothered. They didn't see any reason for them to care or help. Sure, _she_ had left Tristan and Sirius to fend for Malfoy when they got home, but that was only because she was angry with him for still having the strength to insult her.

She looked down at the boy before her, mixed emotions coursing through her veins. She noticed that a thin sheen of sweat had appeared on his forehead, and so wet a towel and dabbed his face. A faint whimper escaped his lips. Hermione felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the blonde Slytherin. He looked so helpless lying there. But then, she knew; as soon as she woke him, he'd be himself and likely insult her again.

Might as well get this over with…

"Malfoy," she whispered softly, patting his arm as she spoke, "Malfoy, you have to wake up."

He moaned a bit and turned his head away from her. "Oh, come on, wake up," she said louder.

Instead of waking, Malfoy let out a snore. Hermione had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming in frustration. He was being difficult. Maybe not on purpose, but even unconscious, Malfoy was still a self-righteous prick.

Before trying a third time to wake him, Hermione retrieved some Dittany from the side table. Kreature was no doubt ordered to leave some there. She used it on the worst of Malfoy's cuts and bruises.

"Malfoy," she said, "you need to drink some water."

Again, he only mumbled incoherently. Hermione growled low in her throat. _Are you that deaf? I mean really._

Then an idea struck her. Slowly she reached out and stoked his cheek. Next, she let her palm rest on his face, just as she had when she found him. His eyes fluttered.

"Malfoy, wake up you ferret," she demanded.

At this, his eyes snapped open. He stared at her for a few before glaring.

"Granger," he sneered, "where the hell am I?"

This was going to be a big surprise.

"You're in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Malfoy."

Silver eyes widened and he sat straight up, paling as a result of the pain pulsing through his head.

"Bloody hell, I'm prisoner aren't I?" he screamed in her face.

"No Malfoy—Malfoy, you aren't prisoner," she yelled as he struggled to get out of the bed.

"You're all going to torture me too, I know it!"

Hermione gasped. Raw fear was etched in his eyes and voice as he said that. He remembered what happened, then.

"Malfoy," she said quietly, sitting down to show that she was not a threat, "you are not a prisoner, and we are _not _going to torture you. If you relax, I'll tell you what's going on."

He stopped struggling and glared at her. She took advantage of his silence to tell him what had happened. He sat, becoming visibly stony faced as she spoke. When she finished he laid down and stared at the ceiling.

After five minutes of this, she worked up the nerve and said, "Malfoy?"

"Just go away Granger," he hissed bitterly.

"But you need to drink this water."

"Then leave it here!" he shouted.

Hermione recoiled. He turned his head and looked at her, smirking.

"I can see you frighten easily despite my state."

He was taunting her and her skittishness. She sat straighter and replied, "Yes, well, you can see who has the wand," she held hers up, "and don't think I won't use it if needs be."

Momentary panic arose in his silver gaze as she brandished the wand under his nose. She put it back in her robes and stood, watching him closely.

He held her gaze and then looked away. "I don't need your pity, Mudblood."

"And I don't need your flak, _Ferret_, so let's make a deal. I've been assigned the pleasurable task of looking after you, so get used to my company and get used to it fast. Because no matter how much I despise you, I'm sticking to my job."

Malfoy watched her, shocked at her authority.

"So. I suggest that if you just want me to just go through the motions without any emotion or conversation, you better keep bloody quiet unless you seriously need something," she continued savagely.

"And that's another thing," she snapped as she saw his appearing smirk, "I'm not playing house elf to you. I'm here to mend you until you're fit enough to speak to the Order. After that, I'm done. You will not boss me around, or demand anything from me. If you have the urge to call me a degrading name, fine, do it, I hardly care. But there are about eight other people here who _do_ care so I'd watch my tongue if I were you."

"Now, do you have any questions?"

Malfoy sat, dumbstruck. Slowly he became himself. "You have a lot of nerve, Granger."

"Yup, and I'll use it as I please," she replied airily, "Are you hungry?"

"Not particularly. The stench of Mudbloods and Blood traitors has diffused my appetite significantly."

"Fine."

And she swept around to leave. "Oh, I almost forgot. I'm in the room next door, conveniently enough for you, so if you need anything, just use the speaking box behind you. And if I'm not there, holler until you annoy someone enough to come find me."

And then she left.

Outside the door, she leaned against the wall, grinning at her performance. She stood there for a moment longer; ready to leave when she heard a "Son of a bitch!" coming from Malfoy's room.

She stifled her laughter. After all, it wasn't everyday she made the Slytherin Prince look like a total arse.

* * *

Later during dinner, Hermione sat enjoying a wonderful meal of roasted chicken, corn on the cob, home made potato dumplings, and fruit salad, and answering questions about Malfoy's health.

"Does he seem strong?" Ron asked suspiciously, angry that Hermione had to spend extended amounts of time with their long time enemy.

"Not really," she told him, "he didn't have enough strength to stand. Besides, he's still in shock about his father torturing him."

Ron looked pleased at this bit of news, and bit vigorously into a chicken leg. "'At's ood." He mumbled through a full mouth.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother's lack of manners and turned to Hermione. "So, tell me the truth?" She whispered for Hermione's ears only, "What's it like to have Draco Malfoy totally in your mercy?"

Hermione snorted into her pumpkin juice, earning herself curious glances from her dinner mates. "Ginny," she whined, "what is your problem?"

"Nothing, I'm just observant. And you have to admit," she added, wiggling her eyebrows, "Malfoy's gotten pretty delicious over the past year."

"Merlin, Ginny, exactly how many men are you going to drool over before Harry breaks up with you?"

"What! I'm merely stating a fact that every girl should notice. Except you it seems. I mean, open your eyes."

"I am. And all I see is an arrogant git who has belittled my friends and I since our first year. Nothing is going to change that!"

By this time their little argument was attracting attention. Hermione looked around, noticing that Tristan was watching her. Warmth crept up her face and she turned back towards Ginny.

"Whoa, Hermione…Trissy is looking at you."

"I know! And don't call him that."

"Turn around and smile or something!"

"Fine!"

Hermione did as she was told. She was terrified that he was going to frown and turn away, but instead he smiled right back. Her heart spun out of control. His entire aura lit up when he smiled. He was a different person when he wasn't out of it. She looked down, shyly, and glanced back at him. He winked.

"Wow," Ginny breathed, "I never thought he could look that nice."

"Me neither," Hermione nodded.

"He's coming over here."

"Wha—Hi Tristan," Hermione gulped.

"Er, Hermione, when you're finished, do you mind taking a walk with me?"

"I—er—I mean to say…sure."

"Great, I'll see you in a minute.

"I'm finished now, actually."

"Okay, shall we go?"

"Sure."

Hermione accepted Tristan's outstretched hand and followed him to the front door. She didn't notice the dark looks Harry and Ron were exchanging, nor the look of sadness and anger Felix showed them as they left.

"Oi! What is he playing at?" Ron muttered, smashing a dumpling beneath his fist.

"Oh, Ron, get a grip," Ginny said disgustedly.

"You're one to talk," Harry murmured.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Mrs. Weasley, sensing one of her daughter's infamous fits coming on, stood hastily and dismissed them all from dinner, pausing to ask for Ginny's assistance in the kitchen.

They all left the table, Sirius the only one who wasn't upset by something.

Meanwhile, outside in the lane passing Grimmauld Place, Tristan was asking Hermione things about herself. She answered as truthfully as possible, fudging a few things that were somewhat embarrassing.

"So, I hope Malfoy isn't giving too hard a time," he said in his light voice.

"Oh, no, I've got everything under control so far," Hermione said.

"Well, if you ever need help, I'm here. And Felix and Edward too."

"Thanks."

"You know, you surprise me," he suddenly offered.

"How so?"

"You're incredibly bright," he began.

"That's what surprises you?" She asked, voice tightening.

"No! I mean, of course not. I was just listing what I like about you."

"Oh."

"You surprise me in that, you never give in to anything. You just suck it up and do what you set your mind to. Like Malfoy for instance. I probably would have refused point blank to look after that idiot. But you, you just roll with the punches. Because you know what is right."

Hermione looked at him awestruck. This was the most he'd ever spoken to her directly, and she never imagined the first time would be so flattering.

"Thanks."

"Your welcome. I suppose we should go in now…if you're okay with that?"

"Yeah." Hermione was a bit disappointed. She had thought that little speech was leading up to something big. But she couldn't help but feel wonderful. Tristan seemed genuinely interested in her.

"Um, do you think we could take walks more often?" She asked timidly.

He took her hand in his, and she felt the familiar sensation of cool water immersing her.

"I'd like that," he smiled.

Hermione was on cloud ten. After talking to Tristan she believed there had to be more levels of euphoria than just nine.

As they reached the door, they could hear a faint commotion on the other side. Hermione opened it, and was surrounded instantly by wild-eyed wizards.

"Hermione, you better go see what the ferret wants!"

It was only then that she could hear the dim yet dreadful call of Malfoy.

She'd forgotten his dinner.

"Why didn't anyone else give him food?" She yelled as she ran to the kitchen and fixed a plate of dinner.

"No offence Hermione, but you're on your own with this one," Harry laughed.

"Thanks guys," she snarled, pushing them aside to get to the stairs. She took the steps two at a time and approached Malfoy's door. Taking a deep breath, she clutched the knob and turned it.


	5. Goodnight, Granger

**Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!**

A/N: Here's chapter 4! I like it. Besides, it's got Edward in it, who I know is a popular character :P Chapter 5 will probably be longer since I have a busy schedule tomorrow, Thursday and Friday. I'll try to get it written and in, but it might have to wait til Saturday. Til then, enjoy :)

* * *

**Chapter 4: Goodnight, Granger**

Once the door was open, the vial of Dittany that had been resting on the side table exploded on the wall near Hermione's face.

"MALFOY!" Hermione screamed while shutting the door to avoid more potential projectiles, "WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?"

She opened the door slowly and peaked around the corner. Malfoy was sitting just as she had left him, looking even more pissed off. She shoved the door all the way open, this time with her wand out. She balanced the tray of food on one hand while she approached the pink-faced boy.

"Where have you been, Granger?" he demanded hotly, ignoring her wand.

"You're forgetting our little agreement, Ferret," she commented, setting the tray on the table, "You're not to demand anything from me."

"And you're forgetting that you said I could scream my brains out until I annoyed someone enough to get you."

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her and narrowed her eyes. "That doesn't give you the right to throw a glass of Dittany at my head as soon as I walk in the room!"

"You're right," he mocked an apologetic tone, "Next time, I'll use a book. That suits you more. Death by _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. _I can see it now: Here lies Hermione Granger, killed by a book. Oh well, that's how we always knew she'd go."

Hermione laughed sarcastically. "Oh, you're so funny Malfoy. I swear, if your magical talent was as good as your comebacks, you might have been able to stop your father and aunt from leaving you for dead."

Hermione didn't know what possessed her to say it. Perhaps it was because Malfoy had ruined the marvelous feelings she had had with Tristan that made her snap. But one look at his face told her that she had crossed a line—a line that she was acutely aware of when Malfoy stood slowly. It looked like he was stronger than anyone knew.

"I'm sor—sorr," she began to stutter before he grab her arms in a painfully tight grasp. She winced as he pushed her against the wardrobe that sat in the back corner of the room.

"Don't you dare talk to me about my father, you pathetic waste of magic." He spoke in a low, icy voice filled with pure venom. Hermione was glued to the spot, unable to look anywhere but his eyes, given the force with which he held her. She was only half aware that she still held her wand. When she came to, she jabbed it into his side and whispered, "Let go of me." Her voice shook.

Malfoy didn't flinch at the pressure her wand created. Instead, he squeezed her arms tighter. She pushed her head as far back as he leaned closer. He really did look exhausted. Ashen circles tugged at his eyes. His skin was pale now. Her breathing came in shallow pants and his were deep yet rattling. She could feel its warmth hitting her face.

She had never seen anyone who looked as seemingly frail and scared as he did.

"What are you going to do Mudblood? Hex me? Personally, I don't think you have nerve. Besides, you touch me," he leaned even closer, "I _will_ hurt you."

Hermione nodded her head, shaking in his grip. Malfoy glared at her more, until finally releasing her. She slowly backed away until she was out of the room. Once the door was closed she fled to her room where she huddled on the bed, watching the speaking box, praying he didn't say anything else.

An hour or so passed, and she hadn't moved. Ginny had come in once, asking her what was wrong. But Hermione just shook her head, refusing to look away from the speaking box.

_There is no way I can do this. He's insane. He meant what he said. Oh Merlin, what if he hurts me?_

Tears blurred her vision. _Oh come on, Hermione! It's only Malfoy. The same ferret you've dealt with for years. The scrawny bully who can't do anything without his two blundering gorillas by his side._

But she knew this was only wishful thinking on her part. A year of living in the same house as Voldemort had damaged the once jumpy prat. Not to mention what his family had just done. Malfoy trusted no one. And he was just waiting for a chance to lash out.

And who better to lash out at than Hermione? After all, she's the one who had to see him everyday. She dreaded seeing him next. _Maybe I should wake up early and have his breakfast waiting for him before he's awake. That way, I won't have to deal with him._

Hermione sighed and snuggled down into the blankets. It was getting late, and she could watch the box all night. She moaned out loud and sniffed. It was going to be a long night.

Just as she was drifting off, she heard a click, which sounded as if it were coming from the box. She sat bolt upright, her breath hitched in her throat. A few seconds went by.

"Goodnight, Granger," a satisfied sneer bid. And he snapped the box closed.

* * *

The next day, Hermione awoke quite groggily. Sleep had been elusive the night before. She kept hearing things, mostly the box clicking, and while she was sure it had been her imagination, she couldn't help but stay awake for long periods of time between sleep.

The events of her last visit with Malfoy kept repeating in her head. She could still feel his grip on her upper arm—she was positive there were bruises forming there—and see the fear, rage, and loathing in his eyes.

Shuddering for the umpteenth time, she slipped out of bed and crept into the bathroom, careful of disturbing Ginny who lay in her own bed. Hermione turned the light on and looked in the mirror. Purple shadows fit to rival Malfoy's were painted beneath her eyes. She grabbed a washrag and cleaned the sleep from her eyes and then brushed her teeth. She then slid into her robe and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

After passing Malfoy's room with a thudding heart rate, she slunk down the stairs and into the kitchen. The clock on the wall showed that it was four in the morning; well before anyone would be up. Kreature hadn't even appeared, so Hermione knew she had plenty of time to work.

First she raided the pantry and icebox, looking for foods she knew the men were fond of shoveling down their throats. _Honestly, they go through an entire week's worth of food in two days! _She thought helplessly as the two cupboards yielded very little.

She closed the doors and thought about what to do. _That's it! _

"Kreature?" she called tentatively, "Could you come here please, but be as quiet as possible?"

Soon the elf's footsteps could be heard coming from the basement as he made his way to Hermione. "Yes, Miss Hermione?" He asked politely.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," she told him, "but I really need you to go to Diagon Alley and get some more food. I'd do it myself, but I'm needed here in case there's a problem."

She didn't want to say "I need to stay here in case Malfoy needs me, even though I'm terrified he'll kill me," at the risk of sounding crazy, but the elf seemed to understand her plight anyway.

A few minutes later, he returned with bags of groceries, which Hermione helped him sort. After everything was in its proper place, Hermione gathered eggs, bacon, sausage, bread, milk and orange juice in order to make breakfast. Kreature insisted on helping her, claiming that everyone else would be waking soon anyway.

While the water was boiling for tea, and the coffee maker she had insisted on getting for the men was bubbling, Hermione flipped the bacon in the frying pan. Kreature was setting the table and looking after the eggs, which they were scrambling. Hermione was enjoying conversing with Kreature. It turned out he had a lot to say on the matter of the war against Voldemort. He thought that what the Order was doing was superb and told Hermione how much he was thankful that she helped him become less bitter.

"Oh, it was our fault, Kreature, we should have been kinder from the beginning."

"But you were always kind to me, Miss Hermione," the elf insisted, "I should not have called you horrible names."

"Don't worry about that now, Kreature," Hermione said firmly. "Why don't you join us for breakfast when everyone is down here?"

As was usual when it was suggested Kreature do something with the wizards, he looked up in shock. "Are, are you sure?"

"I'm positive. You deserve to sit with the family."

"Kreature thanks Miss Hermione. Kreature would be delighted to sit with you!"

As Hermione was filling a plate and glass for Malfoy, Harry shuffled into the room along with Ron.

"Good morning," she chirped to them as they sat at the table and poured some coffee.

"Hullo, Hermione," Harry yawned in return. "How are you?"

"Good," she fibbed easily.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron asked, "Why are you up so early?"

"I couldn't really sleep." She brushed away his question.

"Did Malfoy keep you up all night with his stupid whining?"

"No, not at all." It wasn't _exactly_ a lie.

"Yeah, we heard you two having another row when you gave him dinner last night." Harry grinned. "But then it got really quiet. Everything all right?"

Hermione slammed the pan on the stove a little hard than she had meant too. "Um, yeah, everything was fine," she muttered, fidgeting with the utensils.

"You're sure?" They both looked concerned.

"Yes, okay? He was just being his usual, annoying self."

"Okay, sheesh, Hermione, no need to go all nutty on us now."

"Um, right. Well, I'm going to take this food to Malfoy now."

"Just in time too," she heard Harry laugh, "He just woke up. We could hear him muttering in there when we came down."

Hermione nearly dropped the tray. "Oh, well, then—that's, um. I'll be going now."

Ron and Harry exchanged looks as she was rushing out of the door.

"Women!" Ron exclaimed when she was gone. "They're complete loonies sometimes."

"Tell me about it, mate," Harry conceded.

Ron's eyes widened. "Hey! I just thought of something. What if her behavior has something to do with Tristan? She did look all googly-eyed when they came back last night."

He jumped to his feet. "What if they did something while we were all asleep?"

Harry grabbed him as he made for the door. "Relax Ron, do you really think Hermione would do something like that?"

"I s'pose not," he admitted. "I was just looking for a reason to hit the bloke."

"I'm more anxious where Edward is concerned," Harry mumbled.

"Aw, don't worry Harry! Ginny loves you, trust me. She always went on about you every summer. Quite annoying really."

"You've told me this before, Ron."

"Well, it's true. She loves you, and that's that."

"I hope you're right," Harry whispered worriedly.

* * *

Hermione held the tray so tightly that her knuckles were glowing white. She was just outside Malfoy's room and could hear him scuffling around inside. Evidently, he was changing. A fresh supply of clothes had been delivered to him yesterday, and Hermione was left to do the laundry.

When she didn't hear him putting clothes on anymore, she knocked quietly. He had no right to complain today, she was perfectly on time with the breakfast.

She entered when she heard him grunt in compliance.

"Here's your breakfast," she said, avoiding looking at him. She set it down and went to leave.

"Granger."

She bit her lip and sent a silent prayer to anyone who would listen. She turned and looked at him.

He looked ten times healthier than he had. She had no idea how that was possible. He was such a wreck when they found him. _He must be very strong._

His skin wasn't nearly as pale and the circles under his eyes were almost invisible. He had cleaned his hair, which fell similarly as it had in their third year. He had also showered, and was admitting a crisp, clean, soapy smell. He wore a white undershirt beneath a black dress jacket and black slacks. Typical Malfoy, though Ginny would probably have swooned if she saw him now.

"What is it?"

He smirked at her. "Have a good sleep?"

Hermione blanched. "Not particularly," she ground out.

"That's too bad," he mimicked concern.

"I'm sure you feel terrible," she cursed him.

_You'd think I'd have learned something last night,_ she thought warily as he stepped forward, eyes thin, cold slits.

"I wouldn't be so cheeky if I were you, Mudblo—,"

"Is there a problem, Hermione?"

Both of them looked at the door. Edward stood, eyeing the situation. He turned his gaze from Hermione to Malfoy, who stepped away.

"Uh, no, everything's fine." She thanked whoever had sent him.

"Well, it's breakfast time." Edward stepped aside to allow Hermione passage. He sent Malfoy a warning look that said, "_Don't mess with her." _Malfoy only smirked.

On their way downstairs, Edward, pulled Hermione into an alcove in the main hallway. He studied her for a moment, and she tried to look as indifferent as possible.

"Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you." She looked into his cerulean eyes. He was pleading with her.

"I'm scared," she finally wailed softly. And then she was crying and shaking and telling him everything that had happened. He listened intently before pulling her close. She buried her face into his shoulder and inhaled his sent. Much like Tristan's touch, Edward's smell and presence made her feel so much better. Nothing could hurt her so long as he held her like this.

"I'll tell Sirius about this. We shouldn't have to deal with this…_you_ shouldn't have to deal with this."

"No!" He looked down at her, confused. "I can do this. I've never had a job to do for the Order that was just for me. They're all counting on me to take care of him so that we gain his trust. This is important to me."

"But you're more important, Hermione. He threatened you! He shouldn't get away with that." Edward held her at arm's length. "I agree with Harry. He's not worth it. You're feelings surpass him in every conceivable way. Don't make yourself sick over him."

Tears beaded at her eyes again. Edward was showing her so much care. She felt wonderful and guilty at the same time. "I'm sorry, Edward, but I need to do this. I need to prove I can deal with stressful situations."

"You don't have to prove anything!" Edward begged, "You're the smartest person I've ever met! You're helpful and kind and just wonderful."

Hermione was glowing on the inside. "Thank you," she whispered, "But, please, let me do this."

Edward sighed. "Only if you tell me if he tries to hurt you again. If he does, I'll kill him."

"I promise. But if you kill him, it will look like I didn't do my job," she smiled.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll take all the credit and place no blame on you," he asserted.

"Deal."

"Good. Now let's get to breakfast."

Hermione never had a more enjoyable meal in her life.


	6. Working with Felix

**Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!**

A/N: Ahhh! I'm so sorry for the long wait guys! But I found that after a while, I had to walk away. Needed a break from it so I could gather my thoughts. I don't want to get bored with it! But here it is. And longer than the other ones :) We are about to learn some interesting things about Felix... Please Review!!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Working with Felix**

After everyone had finished eating, Sirius called a meeting to discuss what they were going to do about Malfoy.

"Molly has told me that Arthur found that the Death Eaters are searching for Draco. Lucius is even going as far as offering a reward for his son's 'safe' return. While it is impossible for them to find this place, being that I'm Secret Keeper, I want this whole mystery solved before anything unnecessary happens."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and then Edward asked, "Did Mr. Weasley hear anything about Narcissa?"

Sirius nodded. "She has taken refuge somewhere with an obscure relative. We believe she is in Switzerland with her mother, but we're not positive. The odd thing is, Lucius seems truly perplexed by her behavior. He doesn't understand why she up and left. Word is, she left without any possessions, and she didn't tell anyone."

Felix, Tristan and Edward exchanged understanding glances. Hermione sympathized with Narcissa too. But why was Lucius baffled by her disappearance? Surely he didn't think that torturing their son wouldn't upset her?

"Hermione?"

She looked back at Sirius.

"I want you and Felix to look into this. Search for any evidence of Lucius's proposed reward. Use any Daily Prophets you can get your hands on. I also want you to do an inventory of all the potions we have stored. If you have too, brew anything we need. I do want you to make some more Felix Felicis, since we seem to have run out, though I don't remember when we last needed it," he added as an afterthought.

"You needed it when you and Mr. Weasley had that mission in Ireland, remember?" Tristan reminded him.

"Oh, yes, that's right, well, make some more anyway. Off you go."

Hermione stood and followed Felix to the library. After her armchair, this was undoubtedly her favorite place in the house. The walls were covered in books. Books about everything one would need to know in the magical world. And books always made her happy.

"Okay," she smiled brightly at Felix, "What shall we do first?"

Felix shrugged and turned away from her. Hermione frowned in bewilderment.

"Is something wrong, Felix?"

"No."

"Please, I have lived with Harry and Ron for how long now? I think I can read the signs when a teenage boy is suddenly surly. So," she said, plopping into a chair, "talk to me."

Felix looked over at her. His expression was blank, but she could tell he was hot and bothered by something. She widened her eyes and pouted her lips, pretending to be saddened by his mood swing. She knew this was a particularly girly thing to do, but she couldn't help it. _Ginny would be so proud._

Felix's mouth twitched.

"Oh! I saw that! You know you can't stay mad at me! What did I do, Felix?" She stood and walked over to him, "I'll try to fix it, whatever it is!" She tugged on his sleeve and sniffed dramatically.

Felix laughed and threw an arm around her shoulders. "Ah, you're right, as always. I can't stay mad. I wasn't really in the first place."

"Than what's wrong?"

Felix abruptly dropped his arm and ran flustered fingers through his brunette hair. Hermione watched him as he took a deep breath, "WhydidyougooutwithTristan?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that," Hermione laughed.

"Why did you go out with Tristan? You know, last night."

"Oh!"

And it all came rushing back to Hermione. Everything Ginny had said about Felix, and that he liked her. Hermione felt bad now. She realized that she hurt Felix's feelings by taking the walk with his friend.

"And then I saw you and Edward having an," his cheeks turned red, "intimate moment before breakfast. And I just thought maybe…you were dating them…or one…"

"Felix Benton! I would never lead two boys on at the same time. I wouldn't lead one boy on! You should know that!" Hermione scolded him.

Felix hung his head in shame. "I know, but they're my best friends and I was worried was all. Besides, I didn't want you to get hurt…I know how those two operate."

Hermione was struck by his concern for her. But, what he said about how Tristan and Edward 'operate' perturbed her too.

"Aw, you don't have to worry about me. Edward was just comforting me because Malfoy was being even more horrible than usual. And I only went with Tristan because he threw me off guard. He never has anything to say to me, or anyone for that matter, and I thought it would be important."

_Wow, Hermione, you're getting pretty good at lying._

"Oh," Felix bought it, "What did he have to say?"

"Uh, he had to tell—he wanted me to know," _Oh bother._

"Yeah, I thought so." Felix turned and began shuffling through the lists of potions he had created for easy categorizing.

Hermione glared at his back. "Now wait just a moment. Just because I went on a walk with Tristan doesn't mean anything happened, or will happen in the future. I have no responsibility to tell you or anyone else about what I do or who I talk to."

"You are becoming just as bad as Harry and Ron," she continued as he turned back to her, "They won't leave me be either! Always thinking Tristan is up to no good. Constantly glaring at Edward…though that may be Ginny's fault…and you! Soon enough they'll be on your case as well! Ginny told me that you liked me!"

Felix paled and Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. _My, my know-it-all mouth is getting me in a lot of trouble_ she thought meekly as Felix sat down in a chair, stunned to silence.

* * *

"Ginny! Can I talk to you?" Harry called up the stairs.

"I'm telling you mate, yelling at her is just going to push her away," Ron antagonized.

"Yeah, well, it's either me or Edward, I'm tired of her clinging to him."

"Well, I don't want to witness any murders, so I'm going to see if mum needs help with anything."

After Ron left, Harry began pacing the hallway. Ginny was taking much longer than he wished.

Harry was truly unglued. He rarely spoke with Ginny anymore. The occasional "Hello" was hardly something he called talking. No, all they did was argue nowadays.

He really didn't get it. Before Edward's arrival with the other two, Ginny hadn't been as…social…as she was now. Sure, she was popular amongst visitors who were also working against Voldemort, but she always kept her distance and never exceeded beyond harmless banter.

When Edward came, she had been intrigued…but so had everyone else. She was cautious and seemed like she was only interested in his stories and what not. Now she followed him around and always asked his opinion on matters that Harry thought pointless.

For instance, the other day, Ginny asked Edward whether or not a certain pair of jeans looked too small. Harry had looked up; assuming she had been addressing him, only to find that her back was to him, and she was modeling said jeans for Edward.

Harry shook his head and wrung his hands. It was over today. No more antics. He loved Ginny so much, but if she felt as if she had achieved everything she wanted from their relationship, then he wouldn't stand in her way to something she really wanted.

"What is it Harry?"

He turned around and took her figure in. This was it…

* * *

"I'm so, so sorry Felix. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that. It was dreadful of me to do that."

Felix continued to stare blankly at the wall behind Hermione's anxious form.

She bit her lip. This wasn't good. "Please talk to me," she asked quietly.

"Of course I like you."

Hermione's heart raced. That wasn't what she expected to hear. Felix had always been upfront with everyone, but never about his feelings. She had thought he'd try and deny it, make some joke.

"What?"

"I said I like you…I like you a lot, actually."

"But…"

"What's not to like? You're brilliant and beautiful and kind."

_Funny how everyone has noticed the same things_, she thought, recalling Edward and Tristan's words.

"That's why I was angry with Tristan and Edward. They don't deserve someone like you. You and I are so much more alike. Don't get me wrong, Tristan and Edward are plenty intelligent, but you and I are…"

"Like peas in a pod?" She laughed nervously.

"Well, if you want to be cliché about it, than yes."

"We are, aren't we?" Hermione didn't understand why she was suddenly relaxed about the situation. Felix was right though, they worked to wonderfully together. They never got snippy with each other either. Maybe it was Felix she should have been thinking about the entire time Edward and Tristan had been clouding her thoughts.

"I like you a lot too," she smiled, "And you're the only one Harry and Ron don't have a problem with," she added impishly.

"Yet," Felix corrected, walking closer.

He stopped in front of her and pulled her into a hug. "I guess we'd better get to work on that Felix Felicis, huh?"

"It's a date!"

* * *

"Harry, you're scaring me," Ginny said, walking towards him.

"I, er—wanted to ask you something," he muttered.

"What?"

"Ginny, I—,"

Ginny encouraged him onward with a nod.

"I need to know—,"

"Harry, please, just tell me!"

"Have you seen Ron?"

"Weren't you just with him?

"No."

"Oh, well, no I haven't seen him."

"Oh, okay." And he turned away.

Ginny frowned and contemplated him.

"Oh," he said, "I love you," and he sped back to her and kissed her.

Ginny smiled into the kiss, "I love you too, Harry."

* * *

"I was wondering," Hermione said to Felix as they collected the ingredients for the potion, "How do you excel at making this particular potion?" Ever since they had become potion partners, she had noticed that he was quite talented at producing Felix Felicis.

Felix shrugged. "Everybody excels at something, I just happen to know Felix Felicis and how to make it just right. You have to be prepared for anything a potion can dish out."

Hermione nodded. "Definitely. But this one seems to work for you every time you make it. Even I screw it up sometimes."

"Was that an ego burst I heard in there?" Felix asked playfully.

"Oh, you know what I mean. Sirius always appoints you Felix Felicis maker. No matter who else helps you."

Again he shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. It's not like I've had any more practice than you. I guess I'm just lucky."

They looked at each other and then burst out laughing. "If you'll pardon the pun, I guess I should have said," Felix snorted happily.

"What in the world are you two doing?"

Hermione gulped for air and answered Sirius's inquiry. "Making Felix Felicis."

"Looks like you're making more of a mess," he smirked, pointing at the spilt vial of unicorn hair.

"Oops!" Hermione scooped the hairs back into the container. "Sorry, Sirius, we'll get back to work!"

"Sure you will," he said, using air quotes. He left the room.

"Way to get us in trouble, Hermione!"

"Oh, be quiet! It wasn't even that funny."

"Wasn't that funny? If your red face and snickering isn't any indication, please, let me know!"

"Oh, just help me finish this. Felix Felicis is very tricky, it needs to be just so."

"But you're forgetting something," Felix could barely keep a straight face, "I'm lucky!"

* * *

"Hello, Malfoy!"

"You're awfully chipper," Malfoy curled his lip in disgust.

"Yup, and my mood hasn't even dampened in your presence."

"Must have been a damn good day then," he said carelessly.

"Yup."

She set down his dinner. "Is there anything else you need?"

Malfoy stopped mid shoe-tie and looked at her.

"Did the Weasel girl die and inhabit your body or something?"

"What do you mean?"

" I mean someone who is far less boring and serious and a lot more happy-go-lucky has seemed to have taken your place, Mudblood."

At the mention of the word 'lucky', Hermione immediately started giggling. Malfoy, who thought the girl was laughing at his sordid use of 'Mudblood', stood up, alarmed.

"Seriously, Granger, you're weirding me out."

Hermione continued to laugh, but waved her hand, signaling that it wasn't his fault.

"Mudbloods," he hissed under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Hermione's laughter finally subsided long enough for her to say, "No, I'm not laughing about 'Mudblood', you just reminded me of something Felix said earlier."

"Oh, so you actually managed to get a boyfriend. I must say, I never thought you would, especially after the Weasel never asked you."

Hermione's upbeat demeanor was quickly disintegrated. "Shut up, Ferret."

"Oh, hit a button, did I? I'm sorry—though not really—but it really was quite the bit of gossip in the Slytherin Common Room."

Hermione felt tears prickle at her eyes. She turned away so Malfoy couldn't torment her for them. She didn't fell him approach her from behind. His breath tickled her ear as he continued.

"We always laughed and pondered why he never did ask. I suppose Weasley has better tastes than anyone thought."

"I said shut up, Malfoy," she growled through gritted teeth.

"Oh, are we getting an attitude? I wouldn't if I were you. Though I can see why you're so upset all the time. Must be horrible, you know, not having anyone. This Felix character is probably yanking your chain—,"

"FOR YOUR INFORMATION, FELIX BENTON IS WAY KINDER THAN YOU'RE INSIUATING!"

"Benton?"

Hermione gazed incredulously at Malfoy. "Yeah, so?"

"Oh…I really shouldn't tell you this. I wouldn't want to cause you any distress," he mocked her.

"_What?_"

"Felix Benton, you say? About, two years older than us; Ravenclaw?"

"Yes," she drew the word out, exasperation setting in.

"The Bentons are quite an old family; quite an old _Pureblood _family."

Hermione's blood froze, but she quickly covered it. "Well, even if you're telling the truth, Felix has proved to be a lot nicer pureblood than _some _people I know."

Malfoy ignored her. "I heard you were making potions. Felix Felicis…right?"

"How do you—?"

"I'm not deaf, Granger. And your friends certainly aren't quiet. I know you and someone were assigned the task of making the potion. It was Felix, wasn't it?"

Hermione said nothing and Malfoy knew he was right. "Well, he's quite adequate at making that potion, wouldn't you agree?"

At this point he was circling her, but she didn't notice. "Almost, abnormally so."

"What are you on about Malfoy? As memory serves, I was always a step ahead of you in potions class." She prided herself on her snide comment. She knew her success stories pissed him off, even if they were from three years ago. _Merlin, has it really been three years since our seventh year?_

"For your sake, I'll pretend I never heard that. Anyway, even you would admit to messing up a potion as complex as that one."

Hermione nodded slightly.

"Well. It doesn't surprise me. Felix Benton is after all, related to Felix Felicis."

Hermione whipped around to face him. "What?"

"Oh, so you're not as clued into history as I thought. Shame, shame Granger, and here I thought you were the cleverest witch of our age."

"Just get on with it."

"Fine. Felix Benton was named after his great, great grandfather. The potion really isn't that old, you see. Felix Felicis was a renowned potion maker…a pureblooded potion maker."

"Yes, you've made their background quite clear."

"I know, I just like to throw it in your hideous face. Anyway. Felix Felicis spent years and years developing that potion. Word has it that he passed down the best ways to make it to his children. And they passed it to theirs."

"Now, when you've spent time making the potion with him, did he ever follow the text book's procedure?"

"Of course he did!"

"Are you sure? Because I think he probably had a secret bit of info that you don't know about. How lucky were your Felix Felicis potions before Felix showed up, compared to the ones you produce now?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Felix's potions did seem to last much longer than the ones she made, but she always assumed it was because the drinker consumed more than needed. And they did need it often. The missions they had were dangerous…it was nice to have some liquid luck.

"That's what I thought. And it's only because he knows how to make it precisely."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Malfoy smirked and shrugged. "Mostly just to show you that your boyfriend isn't as wonderful as you think he is. I mean, that secret would constitute as a lie, since I can see in your expression you asked him this before. Tell me. What phony story did he feed you?"

Hermione glared at the boy. "Why else have you told me this?"

"I don't know. To spread discord through this happy little home."

"I loathe you."

"It's mutual, Mudblood, trust me."

"Well, if you thought that this little service announcement was going to upset me, you were wrong."

"Somehow I doubt that. You and I both know that when you leave this room, you're going to go question Felix," he sneered maliciously.

Hermione clenched her jaw shut and made for the door. "Oh, Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"You're wanted downstairs for questioning in ten minutes."

Malfoy paled considerably.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He roared.

"Well, I was going to, but then you wouldn't shut you face, so I decided to wait politely while you finished. I like this so much better though," her smile showed menace, "now you have little time to think of lies to tell. Bye."

She left him looking extremely sick to his stomach.


	7. A Little Q and A

**Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!**

A/N: Yay! Didn't take as long :P I really like this chapter. We now get to see things from Draco's point of view...

* * *

**Chapter 6: A Little Q and A**

Draco sat absolutely still, every one of his senses focused on any smidgen of sound or movement he might detect. But he couldn't hear a thing.

No sounds came from the brass speaking-box the Mudblood had so graciously pointed out, so he knew no one was in the adjoining room. Nor were there any noises from the floor above his, save for whatever creatures lived in the corroding walls.

Draco scrunched his nose when he glanced at the rotten ceiling. He was still sure that the wrong movement from above would send it crashing down. The peeling paint often fell in large flakes whenever a decent amount of racket was made, and Draco was sure he'd develop asthma before his stay was over.

Which brought him to his current dilemma.

The Mudblood had said he wasn't under captivity, but he knew better. Although he wasn't confined to his room—at least, as far as he knew—Draco cared not to venture away from the small, dusty quarters; instead wishing to avoid Scarhead and Weasel all together.

While Draco was quite confident in his superiority over everyone in the house, he was no simpleton. Devising or attempting any sort of escape would get him nowhere. There were no windows in his room, so he had no idea where the house was located—though by listening in on conversations held outside his door, he figured they weren't too far from London. And even if he did manage to escape without being hexed by ten different people simultaneously, he wouldn't know where to go after the fact.

There was no way in hell he was going back to the manor. Not after his family had treated him that way. He didn't understand it. One minute his father was talking excitedly with the Dark Lord, and the next, You-know-who was gone and Draco's father and aunt had started torturing him.

Draco wasn't completely surprised by either of their behavior. He had, of course, been the object of many of Lucius's furious outbursts, but never to that extent; and never for a reason that didn't seem to exist.

And there was also the fact that they had attacked his mother, Narcissa. If anything enraged Draco, it was when anyone hurt his mother. He always suspected that if she could, Narcissa would leave and never come back. And she would take him with her.

But, Bellatrix would never have settled for anyone hurting her Cissy either. Draco frowned. She had taken as much part in his torturing and Narcissa's incapacitation as Lucius had. The insanity of it all was making his head spin.

None of it made sense to him. And now, because stupid Granger hadn't opened her yap and told him, he had to attend an interrogation in less than ten minutes.

_Damn the Mudblood to hell. How am I supposed to answer questions I don't know the answers to?_

He looked at the small clock. Six minutes left until more torturing. She had said they wouldn't, but, she was a Mudblood, and what did they know?

It was a rhetorical question, since he knew she knew ample amounts of things. All the same he was frightened. The Cruciatus Curse wasn't something he wanted to repeat in any lifetime. And even if the Order were the "good guys", they'd probably have no problem harming him. And then there was the added stress of knowing his father was looking for him, and his mother was gone.

He didn't understand why his father was so upset by his disappearance. After all, he had left him to die and decay in the cold woods.

_Left his only son to become food fit only for vermin and insects; nature's own death eaters._

The irony was revolting. Up until that moment of extreme pain and abandonment, reality had always been forever kinder than the harsh instances of his cheerless mind.

Draco slammed his fist into the mattress of the sagging bed frame. He wished there was a window; he wanted desperately to throw each piece of the decrepit furniture into the streets below; wanted to hear the satisfying crunch of splintering wood. Wanted something _real._

Two minutes left. He knew they'd come get him if he didn't have the dignity to walk down himself. And as much as it tempted him to be a nuisance, he didn't want to be labeled a baby or coward.

_Besides, they'd most likely send Granger, and I do not need anymore of her snide remarks._

The idiot girl had been a royal pain in the arse since he regained consciousness. Constantly making a fool of him, even after he threatened her repeatedly.

_I'm not to be outdone, Mudblood, _he jeered silently. She'd get hers.

No time left. Draco stood and approached the stairs. He narrowed his eyes and began his creaky decent into his personal hell.

* * *

Hermione entered the Dining Room, absentminded. She hardly heard any of the conversations going on around her, and simply nodded when Sirius asked her if she had told Malfoy to come down.

She took a seat next to Felix, who smiled warmly at her. She returned the gesture half-heartedly. She was still reeling with the information Malfoy had relayed to her in his room just two minutes ago. All previous pride in making him look like a complete imbecile evaporated, she was fervently trying to decide whether to question Felix right now, or later. While grappling with this hitch, she happened to glance over at Ginny.

Nearly all of her despondency dissipated.

Ginny was giving her full and undivided attention to Harry. She was smiling and laughing with him, as well as holding his hand. Harry looked absolutely thrilled and relieved. Hermione than studied Ron and chuckled. Her other best friend was determined to look appalled and ruffled by his sister's and best mate's behavior, but Hermione knew he was equally pleased. She'd forgotten Malfoy's audacious comments of Ron never asking her out.

Edward also seemed to look relieved. Hermione's mouth twitched. She knew he never truly liked Ginny in that way, and the semi-shaggy haired boy could rest easily now that Harry and Ron didn't have as much a reason to steal into his room late at night and throttle him.

"Did you tell him?"

Hermione jumped as Tristan sat down beside her. She felt Felix stiffen on her right side and knew he was still worried about her relationship with the other man. She silently put her hand on his as a reassurance.

"Yes, I did," she squirmed a little in his presence, "And he didn't look at all happy about it."

Tristan smirked, and Hermione was struck by how malevolent he looked just then. "I wouldn't think so. The element of surprise is an excellent resource."

"So, what? You just picked a random day to get him to talk?"

"Exactly. Honestly, we could have asked him the day after he woke up, since he was apparently strong enough. But the longer we kept him waiting, the more time we'd have to quash any lies he'd throw at us."

This hardly seemed fair to Hermione. For one thing, she felt sorry for Malfoy, at having to sit and wait for his judgment day and therefore becoming increasingly agitated. For another, the longer they made Malfoy wait, the more she had to deal with him. And that was mutiny in her book.

She did not, however, argue the matter. It would only serve to chew away at the already tiny amount of common ground she shared with Tristan. Instead, she faked acceptance and leaned back in her chair.

Only two minutes left for Malfoy to make his appearance. She bit her bottom lip and tapped her fingers on the table in wait.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Hermione noticed that Harry was addressing her.

"You seem awfully antsy, Hermione. Did Malfoy give you issues?"

"Not more than usually." _If you only knew._

"Well, he better be getting his arse down here," Ron interposed, "I can't wait to ask that sonofabit—,"

"WATCH YOUR MOUTH RONALD WEASLEY!"

All three of them put their heads down in shame at being caught. Mrs. Weasley had just entered from the kitchen in time to hear Ron's slip of the tongue.

"Sorry, mum," he mumbled, though he was grinning.

When the coast was clear, Hermione asked them, "How did _you_ two even merit an invitation to this—party?"

Ginny answered her. "They promised to leave the questions to Sirius and Tristan. Though," she roguishly added, "I highly doubt Sirius believed that load of rubbish."

Hermione opened her mouth in an "_Oh_" kind of fashion. Clearly Harry and Ron were under oath. She just wondered what the punishment for perjury was.

Her thoughts were interrupted when they all went silent. From the stairs came the unmistakable sound of reluctant footsteps. It seemed their guest of honor had finally decided to join them.

Sirius got up and went into the hallway.

"This is it!" Harry and Ron both looked like everything they had ever been denied for Christmas of Birthdays was finally being delivered. Ginny looked apprehensive. Felix and Edward remained calm, but excited at finally knowing the truth. Molly had gone back into the kitchen. Tristan was eyeing the door, almost maniacally, visibly ready to verbally attack Malfoy.

At seeing everyone's eagerness and nearly vicious hunger for the truth, Hermione felt a bit guilty. She was the only one that felt sick. For the first time in her life, the know-it-all didn't want to know.

* * *

Draco rounded the corner to come face to face with Sirius Black. He sneered openly. This fleabag was so overrated. To think, Fudge used to believe it was he who had organized the mass break out at Azkaban. Pfft. The old bastard looked done in.

"In here," was all the codger said.

Draco snorted and followed him through the narrow door, which was shockingly silent in movement. Draco had been beginning to think that everything creaked in this house. Hell, even Black looked as if he creaked.

Once through the door though, most of Draco's confidence shattered. Death was even more appealing than this.

Every pair of eyes in the Dining Room was on him. And they looked ravenous. Draco gulped. Each of them looked ready to pounce on him. Everyone, that was, except Granger, who was busy focusing all of her attention on the candelabra in the center of the table.

Draco's eyes swept over every inch, taking in his surroundings. He supposed the up side to this was the lack of wands.

"Sit."

Draco glared at Black, who pulled out a chair at the head of the table.

_Ah, the spotlight._

He sat down and tried not to hold eye contact. He came to find that he recognized everyone in the room.

There was Potter, Weasley, and Black. The Weaselette and Granger, who still looked like she wished to be anywhere but here. _You and me both, Mudblood. _And three others who he didn't know on a personal level. They were Felix Benton, Edward Greene, and Tristan Aldridge.

Anger flushed through Draco as his eyes landed on the copper haired boy. He had multiple stories about the ex-Ravenclaw while he was at school. He didn't like him one bit.

"All right, Malfoy," Sirius Black barked suddenly. He had taken the seat right next to Draco's. "What do you remember?"

Draco glanced back and forth between Black and Aldridge. They were closest, and most nasty looking.

"Lots of things." _Answer bluntly. No details that might make them suspicious. _

"Such as…?" Black encouraged, gesturing with his hand.

"That a Bezoar will protect you from most poisons, the motion for Wingardium Leviosa is the swish and flick, and that Lockhart was an extremely incompetent professor," he drawled lazily.

Tristan stood so quickly; Draco hardly noticed that he was standing. He did notice when the older man bent close to his ear and said, "Cut the bull, Malfoy," in a harsh tone.

Black put his arm on Tristan's shoulder and gently pushed him back into his chair. "I'll handle this, Tristan."

"Anything of relevance, Malfoy. That's what I meant."

"Fine. In first year, Potter saved a dragon and I was given detention for spreading "rumors". In second year, Potter beat me at Quidditch. In third year, Granger punched me. In fourth year, Moody turned me into a ferret because of Potter. In fifth year my father was arrested because of Potter. In sixth year, Potter severely injured me with Sectumsempra. And in seventh year, I barely got to graduate because of Potter."

Everyone stared at him. And then Harry had the gull to say, "And your point is?"

"My point, Potter, is that all my misfortune in life has been a direct result of you and your bloody friends' existence."

Ron leapt to his feet. "No, your misfortune had been because of your damn parents kissing Voldemort's arse!"

Draco slowly rose as well. A flicker of movement caught his eye and he saw that Granger had also stood and was trying to mollify the Weasel.

"Everyone sit!" Sirius howled.

They all sat.

"Malfoy, you're under my roof and so I suggest you answer the questions before some more misfortune befalls you."

Draco glared at him.

"What do you remember about the night you're father and aunt attacked you?"

He didn't hasten to answer this. He was aware that Tristan was flexing his fists and Edward was digging his nails into the table. Harry and Ron were both clenching their jaws and the Weaselette was glaring at him. Granger was averting her eyes away from his.

"What's wrong, Granger? Scared?"

"Don't talk to her," Felix spat savagely.

Draco smirked. He had seen Granger glance at him fearfully. He was getting to her, and he knew it.

"Answer the question Malfoy."

"But you already know everything, don't you? You're the ones who found me," he growled, "Actually, I'm going to make it a point when I get back to my father, that the Order has found a way in. He'll love that."

"Uh, F.Y.I. Malfoy, he almost killed you, so I wouldn't be so excited to get back to him," Ginny snapped forcefully.

Draco was ready to throw her an unmerciful insult, but was thwarted by Harry.

"She's right, Ferret, so just answer the damn question."

"HE USED THE CRUCIATUS CURSE ON ME!"

His screech echoed around the room, before dissolving into the musty air. His breath was deep and his face was red. His eyes stung.

"Are you happy?" He wanted to stun every one of them into oblivion, but he didn't have his wand. He wondered fleetingly where it could be.

"Then why are you so anxious to get back to him?" Sirius yelled.

Draco felt defeated. "He was merely frustrated. Obviously something hadn't worked out to his liking and he was just venting his anger."

"Oh, please," Tristan huffed, "Don't feed us that crock of pig swallow. He and your Auntie Bella were screwing you up big time. And dear mummy tried to save you, but couldn't."

"Shut up." The sudden urge to annihilate Aldridge became near impossible to contain.

"Then what happened?"

"I don't know, okay? Everything was fine. My father had left five minutes prior to retrieve something from the kitchen, I don't know what, but he seemed eager for the Dark Lord to see it. My aunt had followed him. While they were gone, the Dark Lord unexpectedly left without saying a word. Twenty minutes later, my father and aunt returned, and began screaming at me."

"What did they say?" Sirius asked.

"I can't remember. Mostly insults I think. And then they stunned my mother. And I threw some spells at them, but it was like I couldn't hit them even though I was right there. And my aim is very accurate, despite what you people might think," he snapped quickly, "And then they both cursed me at the same time. I blacked out after a few seconds."

"Well, I think that about covers it," Sirius said, "Does anyone else have anymore questions?"

"I do," Tristan looked Draco right in the eye, "Why didn't you fight harder?"

A small gasp escaped Granger's throat, and she was looking at Tristan with something akin to astonished repugnance.

Draco clambered to his feet and shoved his way through the door. Taking the stairs as many at a time as he could, he stomped into his room and slammed the door. A piece of plaster fell from the ceiling at the unwelcome force.

* * *

Hermione sat, motionless. She felt cold. She felt herself shaking. If she would look in the mirror, she'd find a ghostly white version of herself, sparkling because of a thin sheen of sweat on her face.

Ginny even looked disgruntled from what they'd just witnessed, and she barely ever scared.

No one stopped Hermione as she stood and left the room. She walked slowly to the foot of the rickety staircase and clutched the railing for support. She began the small climb.

"Malfoy?" She stood outside his room, knocking quietly, hesitantly, on the door.

No answer.

She turned the knob and went in. "Malfoy?"

He was standing against the far wall, with his eyes closed. When he inhaled, Hermione could see the light reflecting on twin trails running from his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

He opened his eyes. Hermione swore that he was probably seeing red. But instead of going off on her he closed his eyes and tiredly moaned, "Go away."

"Do you need anything?" It was a long shot, but it _was_ her job to take care of him.

"I thought you're job ended after they questioned me," he said dully.

"Well, I just thought that—,"

"Save it Granger. I don't need your sympathy."

This infuriated her. "You don't _need_ or you don't _want _my sympathy?"

"Either. You pick."

"Malfoy, I'm just trying to help! I mean, what Tristan said was completely out of line."

"Well, Mudblood, much like your sympathy, I don't need your help. Or want it."

"I can't believe you!" Her tone made him look at her. "After everything you've been through, you still manage to call me horrible names! I'm the last one you should be offending, Malfoy, because as memory serves, I saved you're sorry hide."

Malfoy straightened and began to walk towards her nonchalantly. As he did so, he said, "You're right Granger, I should be groveling at your feet. I should be begging for you to forgive me."

He was closer now, and Hermione began backing up. "I should be asking what I could do in return for your unending generosity!"

He was inches away, and now a wall was blocking her path. "Is that what you want?" He whispered.

"I want to know why you want to go back there."

Her question, so forward and honest, caught him off guard. And then a new rage sprang into his eyes.

"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?"

"Because! You're hurting! This trust you have in your father is killing you! Why don't you care?"

"WHY DO YOU?"

Hermione didn't know how to answer. She stared into his eyes. They were pleading for her to leave him be. He was ashamed and embarrassed. And he didn't want her to know.

She ducked around him and opened the door. "I know you hate it," and he cocked his ear towards her soft revelation, "But I'm sorry for you."


	8. Light and Dark

**Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!**

A/N: Chappy 7! A long one too. I hope you all enjoy! And please, if you have the time, check out my poll in my profile!

* * *

**Chapter 7: Light and Dark**

Hermione sat locked in a room. It was a small room, lit only by a few tiny candles, and ventilated by only one tiny, barred window. A heavy wooden door blocked the only practical exit, and Hermione knew it would be ridiculous on her part to even attempt opening it.

It wasn't that she couldn't; in fact, she knew very well she could. She had done this thousand of times before, ever since she was five, and every time merited the same outcome.

If she went to the door, she would only need to push it lightly, and it would swing open. Then she could make her way down the beautiful marble passage, lit by hundreds of chandeliers. The effect would, as always, be spectacular. The marble floors, walls, and ceiling would shine and glitter brightly, putting on the most astounding light show she had seen since her parents took her to the firework show at the fair every year.

She'd smile in awe at the portraits aligned along the walls; their subjects dancing, dining, or walking in fantastic gowns and robes among beautiful settings in far away places. They'd stop and wave pleasantly, the women curtseying, the men bowing for reasons unknown. Creatures never before seen, but nonetheless intriguing and stunning, would be accompanying the aristocratic people, some on leashes, some roaming freely and happily next to their human counterparts.

The only thing that made the glowing hallway less appreciable was the silence. None of the people would talk, and none of the creatures would roar, growl, or squeak, as living things should. The effect would, as it always did, remind Hermione of those silent black and white Muggle movies her parents had watched. The only difference being the colorful garments worn by the wealthy witches and wizards.

Once at the end of the hall, Hermione would ascend a glass staircase. Mirrors lined the walls all the way to the top, and Hermione would come to see that she wore just as elegant clothing as the portraits' occupants had.

Her dress would be a light champagne color; contrasting wonderfully with her pale, smooth skin. A sash of dazzling gold would be draped loosely over the crooks of her elbows, falling to mid-thigh. Her shoes would be the same color as the dress, and made of the same silky material. They would be in the style of ballet flats, since she had never mastered the art of walking in high heels. And her hair would be done up in an elaborate array of curls and braids, sleek and shiny.

It was the same outfit day after day, week after week, and year after year. The only thing that would change, if she decided to leave the small, meagerly lit room, would be her age and physical appearance. As her real life-self aged, so did the dream Hermione.

But this time, she felt no desire to witness the gorgeous, marble hallway, with its appealing pictures and noiseless atmosphere. She felt no want in seeing the hauntingly beautiful dress she had magically acquired. And she certainly had no wish to see what would appear at the top of the tower after she had finished climbing the grand staircase of shiny glass.

For if she had done this for the thousandth and one time, if she had confronted these rare deities in the impossible hall, if she had mounted the reflecting stairs, showing her things that weren't so, she'd enter a modest room. One that seemed so dull and plain, so absolute in its lack of color that she'd wonder if she ever left the small room in the first place.

She'd walk to the window on the far wall, and look out. She'd look out and see nothing. No color. Not even black. Just nothing. She'd turn back around and search for whatever had brought her here. Because if everything she'd just saw was real, there _had_ to be something in this dreary room that mimicked the glory of the previous things.

And then she'd just stand and wait. Sometimes until she woke up; without having seen a thing, disappointed that she'd seen so much, but learned so little. Sometimes, though, someone would appear.

If that were the case, he'd be an outline. A familiar outline, even when she was young, and knew no boys who looked like this. The man, as he now would be since she was older, would have no distinct features that would tell her who he was. The middle of the outline would be a blur of colors. Familiar colors, but neither dark nor fair.

She'd know this man, this prince. But couldn't recall him, even though they never met before.

She sighed. She might as well just wait here, in this small room where nothing ever happened. She'd eventually wake up. She sat for a long time—or a short time—there was no way to tell. Five minutes could easily be five years in this boring place, or it could be just the opposite.

When she didn't wake up, dream Hermione frowned. Perhaps the only way to wake was to go to the prince's tower. She stood and went to the massive door. She pushed it, half expecting it to stay put, though she knew not why, but it opened just as it always did.

Except, now, the hallway of light was dark.

Panic arose in her heart. Something was wrong. She quickly entered the blackness. She knew the way by heart, even though there wasn't an ounce of light. She couldn't see the pictures, but she could hear them—for the first time. But it was jumbled; it was white noise. The hum of voices reached her ears, but she knew not what they said. They sounded sad, forlorn, lost and confused, begging for help. And she didn't know what to do.

She ran to the end, where the mirrors would be.

The stairs of glass were now stairs of cold concrete. The mirrors were dirty and broken; some shattered even, beyond repair.

As a rule, Hermione didn't speak. The only times she did were when she asked the prince who he was. He never did answer, though. Instead she vaulted up the stairs. Only when she saw herself in a mirror less misshapen than the others did she stop.

She wasn't in her usual gown. She was wearing normal clothes. A pair of jeans, a stripped shirt, and worn in sneakers. Her hair was pulled back in a regular ponytail, without braids. It wasn't as sleek and shiny either.

Gaping at her reflection, Hermione touched the mirror, and then her shirt. The mirror told the truth.

She forced her way to the top, where she entered the room where nothing would be.

"Oh, my," she stuttered.

All of the color from everywhere else was here. This room she once thought so bland, now shone with elegance unmatched. Not even the portraits could imitate this elite field of colors and light.

The walls were marble, and chandeliers glimmered, but the color was extraordinary. Hues and tints of every possible shade appeared to be in here. Impressive blues and greens, unthinkable reds and violets. Yellows and oranges, silvers and gold.

Hermione knew that some creatures were able to see colors humans could not, and she momentarily wondered if she had developed the same kind of senses all of the sudden.

And then she turned around.

Her prince stood, smiling. She knew he was even if he was the same blurred, vague impression. This disheartened her. She thought that maybe since the room had gained shape and clarity, he would have too. But, alas, he was the same unknown yet frustratingly familiar form.

"Who are you?" she asked, as she always did.

This was normally when he disappeared and she woke up, but this time, he spoke.

"You know who I am, Hermione."

His voice was a shock to her. He sounded as if all of her male friends were speaking at once, but the noise had some how blended into a smooth, single voice. It had the same soft, calm as Tristan's, the same confidence as Edward's, and the same intelligence as Felix's. Even Harry and Ron's voices were discernable. There were more, people she was sure she'd met in Hogwarts, but she couldn't tell.

"No! I don't! Please, please tell me," she begged him, stepping closer. As she did so, he paled. She stopped walking.

"Just open your eyes, Hermione, just open you eyes. Wake up, Hermione!"

Hermione woke up.

"Wha—what's going on?"

"Hermione, you were dreaming again!"

Hermione looked over. Ginny was sitting, cross-legged, on her bed, staring worriedly at Hermione.

"I've been trying to wake you for a while," the red head continued, "You were groaning and pleading for someone to tell you something." The girl frowned, "It wasn't about Voldemort was it?"

"Far from it," Hermione grumbled, "It was the dream I keep telling you about."

"Ah, your prince dream," Ginny bounded excitedly onto Hermione's bed, "What happened this time?"

"Well, it was really odd. The hallway of light was pitch black, and the staircase was broken concrete."

"That all?"

Hermione shook her head, thinking back, "No. I wasn't wearing my dress. I was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a shirt. And when I got into the prince room, all of the colors and lights were in there."

Ginny cocked her head, deep in thought. "You don't think it means something do you?"

Hermione thought for a moment. She was never big on Divination and dream analysis. She always forcefully insisted that dreams were like movies for your sleeping mind and you either got a romance, comedy or horror film. Whatever determined hers was just broken. Like an old record playing the same thing over and over again.

"I don't know," she finally sighed, "and this time, the prince talked."

"Who was it?" Ginny leaned forward ecstatically, almost tumbling off the bed.

"I don't know. His voice sounded like every male voice I've ever heard, if that makes a lick of sense. I heard Tristan's Edwards, Ron's…even Harry's," she admitted sheepishly.

Ginny seemed undaunted by this though. "What about Felix's?"

"Yes, I heard his too. I don't think I'll ever know who it is."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Hermione! It's just a silly dream. It has no relevance to your life whatsoever. I mean have you ever seen a hallway bursting with light and portraits?"

"No. But, we have seen a room filled with light. Remember the clock room in the Department of Mysteries? The hallway reminds me of that room. And Hogwarts is filled with amazing portraits."

"Yes, but what of your dress? And the small room?"

"I don't know," Hermione shrugged.

"Well there you have it," Ginny seemed to be bored with the conversation.

"I suppose you're right, Ginny."

"Course I am," and she smiled teasingly. "What if your prince dream _was_ about Voldemort?"

"Ginny! That's just sick!"

Both girls laughed at this, and went down stairs for breakfast.

* * *

A few hours later, Hermione and Felix were sitting in the library reading through numerous _Daily Prophets_, trying to catch something they hadn't before. Hermione still hadn't asked him about his ancestry, and it was beginning to nag at her.

She felt guilty at the prospect of asking him such personal questions. And she certainly didn't want him to be uncomfortable. Besides, she was scared that he'd push her away if she brought herself to ask him. It would look like she didn't trust or respect what he said to her about his knack for the Felix Felicis.

Giving an aggravated groan, Hermione buried her face in her hands. Why couldn't life be easier than this? Why couldn't she just get along with everyone within the house—even Malfoy—without problems cropping up?

"What's wrong?" Felix asked her nervously, "Are you sick?"

She smiled. He really was too sweet. "No, I'm fine, it's just," here she thought frantically for a alternative dilemma, "None of what Malfoy said makes sense."

"Tell me about it," Felix huffed, running both hands down his face, "I haven't found anything that might help us out here."

"It's not just that," Hermione suddenly remembered, "Everything he said doesn't totally match your guys' findings."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he had said his father and aunt went to retrieve something from the kitchens. They wanted to show it to Voldemort, but he left suddenly, without much warning from the sounds of it, and twenty minutes later, Lucius and Bellatrix returned, but with nothing." Hermione frowned; something was amiss.

"And it just strikes me as odd."

Felix frowned too, "What does?"

"That Lucius and Bellatrix, two of Voldemort's greatest supporters, would leave for something extremely important, be gone for more time than necessary—since Malfoy said they were anxious for Voldemort to see it—and then return with nothing whatsoever. I mean, I don't think they'd do something as illogical as that."

Felix sat down next to Hermione, thinking hard. "Well, we weren't exactly keeping track of how long those two were absent from the room. And it is a possibility that someone told them Voldemort had left already. Maybe they were just angry that they missed their opportunity to show him whatever this thing is, and decided to vent their anger on Malfoy."

"Yes, that is all likelihood," Hermione murmured, mostly to herself. She then stood, "But it still makes no sense. You reported that this was an important event. Why would Voldemort just up an leave, _especially_ since there was something of seemingly valuable interest to him in the manor?"

She was walking back and forth between the desks as she spoke. It was very odd, indeed. Someone either missed something while they were investigating the manor, or Malfoy hadn't been absolutely honest in his answers. She figured the latter. Felix, Tristan, and Edward were professionals, there was no way they'd miss something.

But then she remembered Malfoy stating that it was like he couldn't hit his relatives with any spells at all. And Hermione knew that he was an excellent spell castor, despite his flawed character and attitude. His account reminded her of something familiar; something worth remembering, but she couldn't.

"Hmm, well, there's no point in dwelling on it now," Felix sighed defeated, "We need to make some more potions. I think Sirius said something about Polyjuice potion."

Hermione nodded in agreement. He was right. They still had plenty of time to deal with Malfoy's ordeal, and right now, the Order's interests were top priority. But at the mention of potions, Hermione immediately remembered what had initially befuddled her in the first place.

"Um, Felix, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, you know that."

"Are you related to Felix Felicis?"

Her question did not have the effect she had braced herself for. Instead of being stunned to silence, he calmly asked, "Why do you want to know?"

"Well, I just heard that you might be, but I wanted to get the truth from you before assuming anything."

Felix nodded, visibly pleased that she wasn't making rash judgments like he knew others would. "Yes, I'm related to him. He's my great-great grandfather."

"That's really fascinating," she said, "You must know so much about the potion. He was a genius, your grandfather." She hoped flattery would get him to open up about the issue.

"Oh," he smiled, blushing profusely, "Not more than anyone else who's competent enough. You're forgetting. I'm lucky is all."

She smiled back. But on the inside she was berating herself. _Stupid me, being foolish enough to believe Malfoy's ridiculous accusations, how did I get so emotional to allow him to fill my mind with nonsense?_

"Well, you may be lucky, but you're also, brilliant," she grinned, hugging him tightly.

He put his arms around her, and laid his cheek on her head. "No, I think I'm just lucky, to have ended up with a girl like you." And he kissed her on the mouth.

* * *

A few hours later, and Hermione was still in a lightheaded fog. If she thought the hallway in her dream was dazzling, it was nothing compared to the radiant stars she was seeing now.

After Felix had kissed her, he turned away, blushing, and Hermione remained stuck to the floor. After a while, they got to work on the potions that needed made, hardly speaking. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence per se; it was just that they were both too awestruck.

She entered the kitchen, intent on continuing her care of Malfoy; even it weren't necessary, and almost collided yet again with Edward.

"Sheesh, Hermione," he quipped, his mouth smiling crookedly, "It's customary that people look where they're going when they round corners."

Hermione felt her cheeks warm. "I'm sorry, Edward, I'm a bit—off today."

Concern replaced Edward's cheery amusement. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, I'm wonderful," she answered in a light and far away tone.

"Really? Because I've met trolls more aware than you."

"Hmm?" Hermione wasn't paying attention. She wasn't even jolted when his pale arm wrapped around her and steered her to a chair. He sat her down and kneeled in front of her so that they were eye to eye. His lapis lazuli gaze wasn't enough to bring her to earth either.

"Really, Edward," she protested after a moment, "I'm perfectly capable of standing!"

"I'm not convinced. You don't look like you even know what you were going to do in here."

"I was going to get Malfoy some lunch, actually."

"See!" he cried, mocking a flabbergasted tone, "He can very well feed himself, you know."

"But I promised!"

"No, you promised until he was strong enough to be questioned. He's been interrogated, you're duties are over." Edward spoke with finality. His gaze was stern and almost daring her to argue.

Hermione glared at him. "Oh, yeah, some interview! He was verbally abused. Tristan had no right to say what he did!"

Edward paled. His jaw clenched spasmodically. After a moment he nodded slowly. "I know that. But there's no reason for you to feel guilty. No reason for you to feel obligated to treat Malfoy any better."

Never before had Edward made her feel so upset. And this made her feel even more miserably disgraced. Edward never saddened her in any way, and she hated feeling like he was against her.

Fighting an outburst she felt close at hand, Hermione spat, "I'm getting him some food. Let me do my job." _After all, it's the only one I've ever gotten beyond research, _she added to herself.

She stood up; still glowering at his pale, thin, yet—however much she wanted to deny it at the moment— beautiful face, and walked towards the pantry. Edward sighed, but didn't stop her.

"Please don't be angry with me," he said quietly, "I'm only looking out for you."

Hermione fought ferociously against tears, but ignored him. She grabbed a few things and made a sloppy sandwich for Malfoy, and then turned around suddenly, "You know, you're just—." Edward was gone.

Releasing a long, annoyed groan, Hermione poured some iced tea into a glass and loaded a tray with the meal. She opened the kitchen door cautiously; afraid to hit anyone walking by, and then went up the stairs.

Instead of knocking timidly like any other time, Hermione barged right into Malfoy's room.

"What the hell, Granger," Malfoy droned, lip curled in disgust.

"Shove it Malfoy, here's your bleeding food."

"Yikes," Malfoy said, eyes wide and curious, "What's with you?"

"What do you care?" she yelled angrily. Then, not giving him the chance to speak, she ranted. "I'm thoroughly pissed off and fed up with everyone in the sodding house! There's never a moment's peace between any of us and I want out!"

She started ransacking his room, searching for any dirty laundry. Draco stood still, no doubt questioning her sanity.

"I want to escape!" she continued, "I want to see the daylight! I'm tired of being locked in here with ungrateful men! I work so hard and they never give me a decent job! No! It's just 'Make this potion', or 'Read this book, Hermione'. 'We need you're opinion Hermione!' Well," she hissed, "if they need my opinion so bloody badly, why don't they let me in on the missions!"

"I just wanted to bring you you're lunch. I need to take care of you, but no one seems to understand it! And they asked me to do it!" She muttered to herself. She laughed bitterly, "Maybe it's a good thing they don't offer me a real task! They'd probably make me stop because of the 'stress'!"

Draco stepped aside as the frazzled girl stamped back and forth across the room, contradicting her rant by tidying his room.

"And then," she switched back to being loud, "whenever I feel anything at all, it's 'Are you feeling okay? I don't want you to be sad! But don't stop liking me, because I need you!' Men don't know what they're talking about! I'm perfectly fine!"

The last statement was shouted at him, as though he had asked her the question himself. Hermione kept moving things around and straightening the shelves of knickknacks, irritated and unshed tears finally falling.

Draco was at a loss. He had no idea how to handle the traumatized girl, and was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Despite what many people thought, he wasn't that experienced with girls. They were too much work—fragile time bombs of estrogenic fury, and he preferred not to dabble in that zone of terror.

He did, however, wish to calm her down before permanent damage was done to his already delicate room. He waited until she was stomping past him again before grabbing her arm and tugging her to the bed.

"Sit down Granger, before you hurt someone."

"Not you too," she rolled her wet and frantic eyes crossly.

He ignored her and gathered the nerve to sit next to her. "Now, since you've already told me your life story, why don't you just spill it? I'd rather not know, but if it makes you better, you might leave faster."

"Gee, thanks," she muttered sarcastically.

"Come one Granger, spill. This is a one in a lifetime opportunity, and I'm surprised that I'm even offering it."

Hermione snorted. "Why am I even here, talking to you?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who just had a convulsive fit of female rage," he returned sardonically.

Hermione couldn't stifle the small laugh that escaped her mouth.

Malfoy smirked. She glared.

"As endearing as this is," she growled, "I think I'll pass."

"Fine, I'm not stopping you."

She was surprised to find this hurt her a bit. Some part of her wished he would try harder to make her talk. It wasn't just the thought of finally opening up to someone either. She had this sudden urge to converse with her enemy, in a way she couldn't with her closest friends…and it was disturbing her.

"Fine." She refused to let him know of her temporary weakness.

"Good," he sounded relieved.

She stood up and left. Outside the door, she shook her head. Standing there for a minute, she closed her eyes. She blinked them open, turned around, and went back in.


	9. Fraternizing

**Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!**

A/N: Chapter 8! Woohoo!! I'm so excited about this one. Finally we get some bonding between our Draco and Hermione :P Let me know what you think! PLEASE REVIEW FOR THIS ONE! I LOVE IT TO BITS! **DON'T FORGET TO VOTE IN MY PROFILE BY THE WAY :)**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Fraternizing**

As Hermione re-entered Malfoy's room, she could barely contain her laughter.

Malfoy was sitting in the exact same spot on the bed, staring at her with the most comical blend of smugness and dismayed horror playing across his narrow face. She could practically hear the internal war rampaging in his mind as he fought the urge to either yell 'I knew it! Ha!' or flee from the cramped space.

She decided not to make it easy for him and flitted to his side and plopped down on the bed.

"So, is your offer still standing?" she asked, sniffing resentfully.

He turned to look at her, not quite understanding what she was still doing there. "Well I can see that it won't matter what I say. You'll just blather on anyway," he rolled his eyes muttering "_females_" under his breath.

He turned his head away from hers in a quick snap. Hermione bit her bottom lip, contemplating.

Anything she told him, she had to remember, could be easily thrown back in her face. And he wasn't giving her direct permission to talk about him, so there went any opportunity of asking him follow up questions.

And she was _not_ going to attempt making him talk about _his _feelings again.

"Hmm," she frowned at him.

"Granger, either just speak or leave. I won't sit here while you battle with your crazy hormones. You'd make both of our lives easier if you just picked an option as quickly as possible and be done with it."

"I was just wondering."

"What?" he glared at her, suspicious.

"Why are you offering me the chance to vent? I mean, just a few days ago you were ready to toss me over the banister for talking to you."

When he didn't answer she went on.

"And whenever we begin to have a conversation that doesn't start with screaming insults, it ends that way, and you look like you want to hex me into mush."

"That comes free with the mutual loathing thing," he sneered sarcastically, still not looking at her.

"Well, I just thought we should clear the air," Hermione shrugged indifferently.

"Yeah, that plan's good and all, but in order to follow through with it, you'd have to physically remove yourself from my room, Granger."

Hermione leapt to her feet. "You see! That's what I'm talking about! We can't get through one topic without you throwing in some offhanded comment about me!"

They were both glaring openly, locked in the others' gaze. Hermione refused to be swallowed by his startling silver stare, desperately trying to be the dominant one.

Malfoy was in a similar situation. He was trying hard not to get lost in her fathomless, chocolate eyes. He felt like he was floundering vainly in a sea whose storm was directed solely at him.

Hermione blinked in surprise when Malfoy looked away first. She crossed what few feet she had leapt while overreacting, and sat back down beside him. Both remained quiet, lost in their own thoughts, trying not to become too fretful of the mounting tension.

While sitting there, Hermione chanced quick, sporadic glances at Malfoy. He was looking straight ahead, his face drawn. He wasn't giving anything away. But he did look wary. Hermione's mouth twitched. He was more afraid of her it seemed, than she was of him.

"It's okay, Malfoy," she sighed, "You don't have to listen."

He flinched when she had started speaking, almost as if he had forgotten she was sitting right by him. But instead of relief breaking over his tight features, a confused frown settle on his pale lips.

"I thought you wanted to talk?" he asked dully. He looked pained at the prospect.

"I can see it would do you physical hurt, so I decided to be nice and let you off the hook."

He continued to frown at her. Hermione felt a small blush creeping along her cheeks and looked away. Why did he have to be so—_piercing_—while he was looking at her? Couldn't he be more shallow and less—what? Caring? Of course he wasn't caring, but she couldn't shake the feeling there was more concern in his eyes than he knew.

But before Hermione could consider his demeanor any further, Malfoy began laughing. It wasn't a loud, boisterous laughter, such as Edward's, it was more composed, but she could feel the bed shaking with it.

"What's so funny?" she demanded hotly.

"You should see yourself, Granger," he continued to chuckle, trying hard to contain himself, and failing miserably, "You look like you've smelled something immensely unappealing. Don't tell me that's your concentration face!"

A sudden, stronger heat was flushing her face now as she glared at his shaking shoulders and smiling face.

"I suppose it's just you," she grumbled in a half-hearted attempt to insult him. The truth was, it was hard to say anything mean to him when he was this relaxed and happy. His eyes were much more luminescent when they were crinkled by his smile, which, was stunning in it's own way. It was natural on him, the way his mouth curled over his straight, white teeth. As if he was born to smile and never frown.

Hermione wondered when it had been permanently erased during his childhood. Perhaps when he first learned about his father's "job". Or perhaps even before that. Perhaps it had been wiped away when his mother first cried. Perhaps it had never existed until now, its evil twin, showing itself instead; in the coldhearted smirk Malfoy always employed, hoping to mimic joy.

And she felt an unexpected rush of intense hatred towards whoever or whatever had stolen Malfoy's beautiful grin. Because although it was obvious it was possible, Hermione knew it hardly made appearances. And she felt it was a waste.

Malfoy sighed quietly, still beaming, though his lips were closed now. Hermione smiled back, wanting to encourage him, dreading that he would catch himself and revert back to his infamous sneer.

Her hopes soared when he didn't stop. Even when he looked away, he still grinned.

"So, are you going to tell me anything at all?" he asked, much more calmly than before.

"I guess so." She took a deep breath and began. "I feel like my time's being wasted here, you know? Like I could be out there doing something more worth my while. And I know that fighting Voldemort is the most worthwhile thing possible, but I feel that my skills could be used anywhere.

"I know that if they just let me try something, I'd be able to handle it. I don't want to sound cocky or egotistical, but I know we'd get things done faster if they let me help out. But they don't let me do anything outside of research. Harry, Ron and Ginny are always trying to tell Sirius to let me join in, but I think the other three sway him. It's clear they don't want me out there in the field.

"I love reading and doing things that help out here. I know making potions and what not is an extremely important job and we'd never be where we are today without my know how in that area. It's just that—,"

Malfoy finished her statement for her. "You wish they'd let you free." He looked into her eyes. "You feel like a slave sometimes, don't you?"

Hermione looked at him, shocked, and nodded. No one had ever read her so clearly. Malfoy knew exactly what she was thinking—at least, what she was thinking on her worst days. She realized that he probably felt the same way in his own home. Like all he ever did was what others told him to. She felt a twinge of empathy.

She sighed and stared at the closed door. "And taking care of you was my first real task," she continued blandly, "and as much as I detested it…as much as _everyone_ detested it, I had to do it. Though I'm not really sure they deserve my help. I have no reason to prove anything to them.

"And after seeing the horrible state your—," she hesitated, "—family left you in, I knew I had to make you better. Because everything you've ever done to me or my friends pales in comparison next to what was done to you."

Her tone was final and brutally honest. Malfoy detected no hint of antipathy in her voice, nor did he here any reluctance. He was stunned by her words. She seemed too tired and dejected to blame him for her problems, though he wouldn't react if she had. He knew it was his fault that she was so unhappy. His arrival had cut her off from her friends, if not entirely, than by enough.

"I'm sorry that they made you deal with me," he told her quietly. "And I'm sorry if I've scared you at all, or angered you at all."

Hermione's mouth fell open a tiny bit. "Are you feeling okay?"

Malfoy shrugged. "It's the truth. But you don't need to accept it."

It was odd, how everything had changed in the course of one day. Her feelings for Felix had ballooned, and they were official now, not that everyone knew about it yet. Edward had become a slow, painful, and unwilling thorn in her side. And now Draco Malfoy had become her dearest confidant. What was stranger; he didn't seem at all bothered. She gave a small bark of laughter. It was probably because she hadn't gone crazy this time.

Silence settled once more while they sat. There seemed to be no more need for words, but neither of them dismissed the other. Hermione was content to stay for a few more minutes. Felix, Edward and Tristan wouldn't be able to find her for a while, because none of them would assume she'd willingly stay near Malfoy. She doubted Harry or the others would think to look here either.

At the thought of Tristan, though, Hermione stiffened. Malfoy noticed her change in posture and threw her a questioning glance.

"I just remembered," she swallowed slowly, unknowing of how he'd react, "But about the other day. He had no right to say what he did."

Malfoy stiffened as well. He knew exactly what she meant. "I really rather not discuss it," he growled through gritted teeth.

"I know. But I'm here if you ever want to. Or anything else," she murmured.

Malfoy nodded curtly, but relaxed when she didn't push the fact. His stomach then embarrassed him by growling.

"I suppose your sandwich isn't good anymore," Hermione said guiltily, looking at the staling food she had prepared. She had taken his lunchtime.

"Oh, don't worry about it," he mumbled, and then smirked jokingly, "You can get me dinner though."

Hermione snorted, "I guess I'd better. You wouldn't want to come down, would you?"

"Not particularly."

She looked at him sadly. "I wish things were better. Just, everything."

He nodded, uncomfortable by her gaze. "Maybe some other time."

"Like when Tristan isn't here," she snarled angrily.

Malfoy laughed again, the same composed yet cheerful laugh. "Yeah, that'd work. But I doubt everyone else wouldn't mind like you."

"Pfft. Screw everyone else," she ground out.

"Aw, you're not seriously mad at the Weasel or Scarhead are you?"

"I guess not. But it's nice to have options."

"Well, I'm a perpetual one," he stood and stretched, "And I wouldn't let on to the others that we had a chick flick moment, Granger."

Surprised he even knew what a chick flick was, she snickered. "Darn. And here I was hoping I'd get to tell everyone how wonderfully sensitive you are," she mocked, "I guess they'd have to see it to believe it, huh?"

He nodded and opened the door for her, checking to see if the coast was clear. "Well, no one's around, you can go without attracting trouble."

"Yes, wouldn't put it past Harry and Ron to jump to ill conclusions," she sniffed scornfully. Once outside she turned back, "Thanks again."

"No problem. But try not to get too used to it, I still have a reputation, you know."

"I'll try not to. Though a smile suits you more," she answered truthfully.

Malfoy grimaced. She could tell he was debating again, and she decided to make it easier for him. "See you in a bit." She skipped away, everything they'd discussed zooming through her head.

* * *

She entered the kitchen cautiously, anticipating Edward, and stopped dead, immediately guarding her expression. Tristan was sitting at the table, reading the Daily Prophet; completely immersed in whatever terror the paper flaunted today. At least, she thought he was immersed.

"Hello, Hermione," his strangely soft voice called as she maneuvered carefully towards the pantry.

She froze, not sure how to acknowledge him. Should she return the greeting or ignore him? She went with the former, thinking the latter would bring unwanted attention.

"Hello," she muttered quickly, busying herself with dishes. Hopefully he would keep reading and leave her alone. She was still livid with him for the interrogation session, and wasn't ready to forgive him.

"You seem oddly distracted," he plowed onward without putting the paper down.

Hermione fidgeted, ignoring him. His voice was so odd to her. Of course, it had always been, but now it made her nervous. It was above whisper, but not unpleasant. She knew first hand that voices like his could easily be classified as secretive or anxiety inducing. But until now, she had always felt calm when he spoke. He forced you to listen without really trying.

"Just getting some dinner for myself," she lied easily when it became apparent that he was fishing for a response. "I'm really hungry."

"Hungry enough for all that?"

Hermione jumped. Tristan had stood and was behind her, frowning slightly. She glared at him before turning back to the small feast she was piling on a tray. "Yes," she grunted, shrugging.

"Why are you putting it on a tray?" The way he phrased the question alerted Hermione that he wasn't really asking a question, and that he knew very well what she was doing. Her shoulders tensed as he stepped closer. "Why are you bothering?" he asked, tone never changing.

"Because I think someone in this house should attempt being civil," she spat, implying that he should try as well.

She went to get something out of the icebox, when his hand landed lightly on her shoulder. Her heart accelerated, fearing that he was going to be violently angry. And instead of feeling the familiar rush of calm wash over her whenever he touched her, she only felt frustrated defiance.

She jerked away from him and stomped to the box. "I can't believe you," she hissed at him, fishing for more iced tea. "You certainly never struck me as ignorant and cruel, Tristan. I know that he wasn't being—," she sought a word, "—behaved, but what did you expect? And for you to be completely ill mannered! I mean, what were you hoping to accomplish by asking him such a thing? 'Why didn't you fight harder?'"

She was clanging various dishes in her emotional spiel, and she dared not look at him, fearing that eye contact would cause her to loose her edge. She was aware however, when he caught her wrist and twirled her around. His hazel eyes blazed angrily, but he kept his cool.

"Would you please relax?" he pleaded softly, eyes still smoldering. Tranquility finally flowed over her as he let go of her arm. "I've already gotten this speech from Edward _and_ Felix—and I realize now that they were probably doing it for you—so you can forget about it."

Hermione felt satisfaction growing in her stomach, turning into a smug smirk on her lips. Felix she could see talking to Tristan, and the added knowledge of Edward gathering the nerve to do the same made her notably less upset with the blue-eyed boy.

"I'm not the least bit sorry for what I said," he remarked harshly, and his voice became hugely unappealing in that moment, "but if I can get on your good side again, I promise not do it again."

Hermione chewed her lip, unsure of what to say.

"Please," Tristan clasped her hand in both of his, "don't be angry. I want no discontent between friends."

So they _were_ friends. He could have had her fooled. But he looked so sincere and pained that she couldn't stay too terribly miffed. She sighed and nodded. He clutched her hands tightly before letting go and smiling lightly. Like Malfoy, Tristan's smile was a tribute to what Hermione would rather see every day.

"Thank you," he whispered, even softer than before.

She nodded again and picked up the tray. She didn't trust herself to speak, so she made her way back upstairs.

"Malfoy?" she called through the door.

"Yup," came an answering reply.

She went in and sat the tray down in its usual spot. "Well, here you—," she froze. Malfoy was lying on the bed staring up at the ceiling. He didn't have a shirt on.

Noticing her silence, Malfoy smirked, "You don't have to stare you know."

"I'm not!" and she looked away.

He got to his feet and sat at the little table and dug into the food. "Really, Granger, you out do yourself," he smiled, complementing the meal.

"Thank you," she mumbled, squirming again. Twice in the same day, Hermione was contradicted. The first time was when she assumed the hallway in her dreams was the brightest thing in existence. And then Felix had kissed her, nullifying that belief. This time, she had assumed that Malfoy looked his best while smiling. And now she knew that that wasn't true at all.

Draco Malfoy looked his best while smiling _and _not wearing a shirt. Which was an extremely shallow thing to declare, but it was the honest truth. She was breaking out into a cold sweat, and a hot embarrassment at the same time. This was an insanely uncomfortable mix and she had to get out of the room before she lost her mind or attacked Malfoy. Either way, it wasn't safe in here.

She bolted, not listening to his protest, and flew into her own room. She muttered a silencing charm at the speaking box and crawled into her bed, planting her face into the pillow. She groaned into it.

"What's wrong with you?" Ginny asked from her bed.

"I just met an angel straight out of hell," Hermione moaned, unmoving.

"What?"

Hermione eased into a more reasonable position and recalled her entire day, knowing it would make more sense to start at the beginning. Ginny squealed delightedly when she got to the part about Felix kissing her and Hermione held up a hand stating that that wasn't the most interesting part.

All in all, Ginny was a good audience. She cringed when Hermione glazed over Edward, grinned when she retold her outburst at Malfoy, grinned even more when Hermione spoke of talking openly with Malfoy, and sympathized when it came to Tristan.

Hermione took a deep breath and fired through her most recent encounter with the boy literally next door, eyeing the speaking box warily.

Ginny's eyes bugged out of her head, "really?"

"Yes."

"I wanna see!"

"Ginny, no! If you go over there, he'll know I told you!" Hermione was mortified. She buried her face in her hands. Life was so unfair.

"Oh, all right," the redhead grumbled. "But tell me. Was he hot?"

Hermione threw her friend a chiding glare, but answered bashfully, "He was—ravishing."

Ginny smiled so widely, Hermione thought her cheeks would tear. "You know what I just realized?" the younger girl tittered excitedly.

"What?"

"Draco knew you were coming back to give him his dinner. And you _did_ just have a bonding moment." She arched her eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione shook her head, not understanding.

Ginny sighed, "Really Hermione! For a brilliant girl, you're slow on the uptake. Draco knew you were coming back! So obviously he either wanted to instigate a flippant reaction, or—,"

"Or what?" Hermione demanded exasperatedly.

"Hermione," Ginny said bluntly, "Draco was trying to entice you!"


	10. Um what?

Yeah! Chapter 9!!! WooHoo! Sorry if it's a bit shorter than the others. Hope you like!

**Chapter 9: "Um…_what?_"**

Hermione sat staring at Ginny.

Her mind spun into a haze. White noise. Ginny hadn't said anything. She couldn't have said what Hermione thought she did. She had meant to say, "Draco wouldn't think _twice _about you". Hermione's mind nodded in hurried agreement. Yes, that was it. Nothing with Draco, entice, and you in the same sentence. It just wasn't physically possible. The universe wouldn't allow it. Somehow, Ginny would have been stopped from saying what she had, if that was what she had said.

Because there was no way in this millennium that Draco Malfoy would once consider showing off for Hermione. If that was what he had been doing, it must have been a result of some sort of delayed post-traumatic stress disorder from his families' torturing him.

_Hermione! _She scolded herself; _he wasn't trying to charm you! So you don't have to make up excuses for him! He would sooner go bow down to Kreacher and serve him than even smile at me!_

_**But he **_did _**smile at you,**_ something murmured in her head.

_That's completely beside the point! He was suffering from some state of dementia!_

You just said that he wasn't charming you, so you didn't have to make excuses. So which is it? He was enticing you? Or…what?

Oh, shut up! Where did you come from anyway? He was probably doing what Ginny also suggested, and that's attempting to instigate a flippant reaction.

Convinced she had defeated the unknown speaker in her mind, Hermione wasn't expecting what the phantom voice said next.

Well, you did flip.

Hermione felt the blood rush from her face. Then, when it came flowing back as she recalled Draco's perfect, chiseled, Quidditch Payer's body.

"Hermione? You look like you're going to pass out. Or throw up."

Ginny shook Hermione by her shoulder.

"Um…what did you say?"

"That Draco was trying to entice you." Ginny looked like she regretted that she had said it.

Good.

"For your information, he is Draco Malfoy. Okay? Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy! The last thing he would do in this world is take his shirt off for me!"

"HE DID WHAT?"

Hermione and Ginny leapt up in horror as Edward glided into the room looking malevolent. He walked straight up to Hermione and looked her eye.

"What did that little prick do?"

Hermione stuttered a bit. "He—I, I mean, Ginny—,"

"I was just joking," Ginny quickly volunteered, "Hermione was looking depressed so I try to make her laugh at the ridiculousness that is Malfoy."

Edward turned back to Hermione, "That's it?"

Hermione nodded solemnly. "I'm still frustrated over the whole Tristan-Malfoy thing, and Ginny thought she would be funny."

Edward sighed, relieved. "That's good. If he ever tries anything like that, tell me and I'll beat the arrogance right out of him."

Hermione thought that he looked like he meant every word, especially "beat".

"I will, trust me. He's driving me insane!" She hoped Edward would believe her tone. The truth was, she didn't know how exactly he was driving her insane. There were two main directions in which someone could go insane: the frustrated route or the head-over-heels route.

Oh, God.

"All right, I suppose I'll go see what Tristan's up to," Edward decided on. "I'll see you two later." With a smile that would normally have melted Hermione's soul, Edward whisked from the room.

Hermione settled back onto her bed, rubbing her temples. "Thanks for backing me up there, Ginny."

Ginny sat down next to her. "No problem. Sorry about what I said earlier. I know it freaked you out."

Hermione laughed. "Oh, no. I'm completely fine," she sputtered sarcastically.

Ginny laughed, too. "I won't do it again, promise!"

Hermione smiled, "Thanks."

Blackness. Again. Hermione began her trek down the normally colorful, golden hallway, listening to the humming, muffled cries of despair radiating through the hall.

"Does someone need help?" she called out desperately. No one answered. At least, it didn't sound like it.

Becoming superbly irritated and nervous, Hermione sped down the hall, and rushed into the glass stairwell.

Jagged. Broken. Confused.

The stairs were littered with slivers of mean looking glass fragments. Hermione hoped the glittering red light reflecting off of each piece was merely her imagination.

She tiptoed up the stairs, dodging piece after piece. Her reflection mocked her from everywhere. The floor, the walls: thousands of pieces of her whirled passed, scared and tearful.

As she reached the door that concealed her prince, Hermione stumbled. Glass pierced the hands of her hands, and she shrieked in pain.

She stood up slowly, tears and blood trickled to the ground. She stifled her sniffling and went the open the door. It wouldn't budge.

Hermione stood, puzzled. She tried again.

Nothing.

"Hello? Is anyone in there?"

She tried banging on the door some more, jiggling the handle and pushing with all her might.

She stopped struggling with it long enough to hear a pitiful moan from within, "Hermione."

She began beating her fists on the door, screaming in claustrophobic fear. She turned then, and screeched as a dark mass crept towards her from the bottom of the stairs. Deciding to try leaping over the mass, Hermione readied herself as it reached the top.

She leapt. Tripping and falling, Hermione cascaded down the stairs and landed at the bottom, winded but alive. She glanced behind her and saw nothing. The icy air choked her, her throat constricting tightly. She flailed her limbs, her hands landing on something that thankfully felt like a wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" She shrieked loudly, praying for relief.

Nothing happened except that the suffocating grip tightened.

She tried again, but she could never get it right.

Shallow breath, and then: silence.

Hermione's eyes flew open. She was still screaming, and cold sweat clung to her body. She was thrashing hysterically, choking and gasping. She was barely aware of Ginny standing over her, trying to calm her down.

Hermione sprung towards the door, praying it would open at last and sailed through it as it gave way to a decrepit hallway. She crashed into the banister, which shook violently under her weight, but fortunately stayed put. There she crouched, huddled into a ball, shaking terribly at things unknown.

She was vaguely aware of footsteps above, rapidly moving towards the stairs.

"Hermione!" Ginny was still trying to mollify the frantic girl.

When she couldn't get a response, she ran towards the stairs, hoping to find someone to help her.

Hermione sat, rocking back and forth, muttering incoherently.

The door beside hers and Ginny's creaked open and a figure stepped out. It was blurred in her vision, familiar and unrecognizable behind her tears. It crouched in front of her.

"Granger?" a voice whispers, "Granger, what's wrong?"

"I can't find him," she whimpered frightfully.

"Shh, it's alright, Granger."

Hands gripped her gently by her upper arms and hoisted her to her feet. A steady arm draped around her shoulders and directed her to her room and sat her down on her bed.

Hermione slowly began settling down. The tears stopped and the shaking ceased against the other person's body. Warmth chased away the cold feeling in her bones and she took a deep, refreshing breath.

"Hermione!"

Harry, Ron, Tristan, Edward, Felix, Sirius, Ginny, and Molly all came crowding into the narrow bedroom, trying to see if their friend was okay.

Hermione moaned in protest, as the warm arm around her should jerked away and the presence beside her disappeared.

Felix hurried forward, "Hermione, are you okay?"

Embarrassment flooded her face at the young man's concerned tone.

Of course I'm okay! She wanted to scream, I just had a nightmare!

She wanted to scream it, but she couldn't. She was confused by her sudden hostility.

Why was she angry with her boyfriend for being upset that she was obviously terrified?

Harry and Ron crouched down in front of her.

"Hermione?" Harry took her hand, "Can you talk?"

Hermione took a shaky breath, "Nightmare," she croaked through a sore throat.

Sirius nodded in understanding and called for Kreacher to bring a glass of water. Once she had drunk her fill, Hermione tried again, "About Voldemort, is all."

Everyone murmured sympathetically. Everyone except for Ginny. She was looking at Hermione with a mystified frown tugging at her lips.

Hermione bowed her head, "I just need to get back to sleep."

Felix looked ready to protest but Ginny stopped him, "I'll keep an eye on her, it's almost morning anyway."

Once everyone agreed, they left the room.

Ginny went back to her own bed.

"Okay, Hermione, what's going on?"

"I told you," Hermione mumbled without looking up.

"No, you told them. You told them a lie. What did you really dream about?"

Ginny looked so much like a severe, worried mother; Hermione saw no choice but to tell her the truth.

"It was my prince dream."

Much like she was earlier, Ginny proved a good listener. Hermione had to stop and compose herself several times before she could go on.

When the entire story was out in the open, Ginny ran to Hermione's side and threw her arms around her distressed friend. Hermione hugged her back. Tears didn't come though. She had cried enough.

"What I don't understand," she sighed after a while, "is how I got back in here. I remember seeing you, and then you disappeared. Did you get Felix down here that fast?"

Ginny frowned.

"What?" Hermione became apprehensive.

"Hermione," she said slowly, not looking at her friend, "It wasn't Felix who calmed you down."

Hermione waited for the redhead to go on.

Ginny fidgeted a little. She then looked Hermione right in the eye. "It was Draco."


	11. Toxicity

**Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full-fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!**

Previously: Hermione has been assigned to taking care of Malfoy, poor girl. She and Felix have hit it off very well, and are trying to figur out why Lucius and Bellatrix left him for dead. Eventually, Hermione and Malfoy bond after she frightens him with her female fury. She has fluctuating dreams about her prince, ranging from golden rooms, to terrifying darkness. She is startled when she finds out that Draco calmed her after one of her worst nightmares.

Multiple other feelings fly through her head as she reacts to Tristan and Edward, Felix's friends. Not to mention, Draco takes his shirt off...but I'm sure you all remember that...heehee.

I present, without excuses because I'm sure you don't want to hear them...

* * *

**Chapter 10: Toxicity (By the way, this is technically chapter 10. The previous chapter should be labeled as Chapter 9, not 10. I started to go by the chapter counter on the website recently, and forgot that I had a prologue, lol. So, this is chapter 10!)**

"Hermione!"

_Good Lord! _Hermione thought as she nearly jumped from her chair. She was once again in her favorite seclusion in the house. She really didn't want to talk to anyone after last night.

"Hermione?"

Strange. Hermione had never heard Tristan's voice at that octave before. He usually was so oddly quiet. Hermione couldn't detect any anger in his tone, but when he spoke this loud, it was hard to tell.

"There you are!" Tristan appeared at a level on the stairs where he could see her from behind the banister. All she could see was his head.

"Yes?" She asked without looking up.

"We're having another meeting in five minutes," Tristan murmured, "Sirius wants to know if you and Felix have made any progress in your searching."

Hermione didn't move. "We haven't."

"Well, maybe you should come down anyway. Sirius will want an explanation."

"An explanation?" Hermione glanced up from her book, which she had turned back to after realizing it was Tristan addressing her. "We haven't found anything. Isn't that explanation enough?"

Tristan grimaced. "You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. The _Daily Prophet_ hasn't said a word about anything related to You-Know-Who since last month. We've been at this for three weeks. No word on Lucius, Bellatrix, or Narcissa. I don't know how that merits much of a justification."

Hermione knew she was being difficult. She was doing it on purpose. But she truly didn't understand why she had to make this announcement to everyone. Surely they would expect Felix or her to come forward straight away if anything came to light?

"We just want this settled as quickly as possible. Our—guest—is beginning to annoy some of us," Tristan snapped.

"Is he annoying some of us or is he annoying one of just you?" Hermione deadpanned coldly.

"Damn it, Hermione!" Tristan bounded up the last of the stairs and strode into the teeny room. He came right up to her chair. "What is your problem?"

Hermione went back to reading, ignoring the man.

Tristan didn't take to kindly to the lack of attention. He put a hand on each arm of the chair and pulled it forward, bending so his eyes were level with hers.

This got him the attention.

"I beg your pardon, Tristan, but I do believe I closed the discussion." Hermione refused to be frightened. And, bizarrely, she wasn't.

"I suggest that you stop this little game and grow up," Tristan growled.

Hermione sighed and placed her book in her lap. She looked right into his eyes.

"What game?"

Tristan stiffened and leaned closer. Hermione involuntarily moved back.

"Do you and I have a problem?" Tristan's voice reeked of poisonous intent.

Hermione, so sick of being fragile and afraid, reviled that she cowered in spite of herself. She tried to answer: "Yes, we've had a problem since you goaded Malfoy."

But instead she shook her head vigorously.

Tristan straightened. "Good," his voice lost all malice, "I'd hate for our friendship to be jeopardized."

He walked away, not stressing the meeting again.

Hermione shut her eyes. She had lost count on how many times she had turned the people of the house against her. Edward was still nervous around her, but not unfriendly. Felix didn't leave her side, which constituted as betrayal in her mind. Normally, he wasn't so distrustful and worried.

Hermione stood, suddenly appalled. She stomped down the rickety staircase, unconcerned with the way it rattled beneath her feet. She all but kicked the kitchen door down upon entering.

Everyone was seated around the table, waiting for her. They started when she made her unusual entrance.

"Okay," she began immediately, "There is nothing to report. You want an explanation for that? Well, I suppose there is nothing to report because—and this may only be a theory, so don't quote me on it—Voldemort hasn't done anything. I mean his lack of terrorizing Muggles might account for the lack of news."

Ginny was trying hard not the burst out laughing. She gave Hermione a tiny thumbs-up. Tristan looked deadly again, but kept his mouth shut.

Everyone else was still processing all of the sarcasm she had thrown at the group at once. Felix was dazed.

"Any questions?"

No one answered.

"Good," Hermione smiled, staring at Tristan, "I'm glad that this went well." She left the room.

Hermione took the stairs three at a time. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She had finally stood up to them. Maybe now they'd leave her the hell alone.

It was a miraculous feeling, this new sense of freedom, and she found that it lead her to Draco's door. She knocked on it, totally bemused. She didn't know what she would say, but she felt like visiting him.

"What?" Came a harassed snarl.

Hermione laughed.

Draco opened the door. He looked just as bemused as she felt.

She came inside without an invite. He didn't seem to mind.

"I wish you could have been there!" The excitement was making her bounce.

"For what? Where?"

"Just now! In the kitchen! I totally delivered on the whole sarcasm thing you're so good at!"

Draco smiled, confused. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"I mean: I finally stood up to Tristan! Well, everyone was there, but I meant it all for him." Hermione flopped down onto the bed, sending plaster dust springing into the musty air. She sneezed. "You should get a different room."

Draco sat next to her. "Really, you told him off? I should have been there. You'll have to warn me when you're about the bite someone's head off next time, it's not exactly an everyday thing with you."

Hermione grinned. This was fun. And weird. She couldn't talk this loosely with her friends anymore.

"It's a deal."

They chatted more about a few things. She told him that she and Felix still hadn't heard much on the whole Lucius front. Draco didn't seem interested.

"I wish I knew where my mother is though," he sighed impatiently, "I hope she's okay."

Hermione's heart accelerated at his worry. "I'll find her," she declared.

Draco smirked, "_Really now?_ You can't even find out what Voldemort's up to, how are you going to find my mum?"

"Ha, ha."

They both laughed. Hermione didn't know the last time she felt this good.

"We should go outside."

Draco stopped laughing, "Yeah, right."

"Why not?"

"Granger, I'm on lock down, remember?"

"No you are not! You just choose to sit in this stuffy little room, developing respiratory diseases, and ignoring everyone. You could go outside anytime you wanted to, it's not like people can see us!"

"I don't think the idea of me traipsing outside for anything would sit well with your buddies downstairs."

"My 'buddies downstairs' wouldn't know what a good idea was if Dumbledore himself came and told it to them. They're so narrow-minded!"

Draco still looked doubtful.

"Oh, come one! I owe you after…"

Draco sensed the fear from last night's nightmare returning to her memory.

"Hey, no problem, really, it was nothing."

Hermione thanked him wordlessly. He nodded.

Draco stood up, "Are we going out or not?"

"You're most definitely not going anywhere, Malfoy."

Tristan stood at the doorway, glaring threateningly at Draco. Hermione shivered. Tristan looked—terrifying. Hermione swayed, suddenly languorous. A burst of hostility racked her frame. She gasped, and both men looked down at her.

"Hermione, come here now," Tristan breathed, calmer now.

She shook her head. Again a malicious aura tightened around her. It felt like the dream all over again…blackness spun around the corners of her eyes.

"Please stop," she whispered. How much things had changed in ten minutes…

Tristan came forward and hoisted her to her feet. At his touch, the terror magnified. She screamed, flailed, was wrenched two ways at once. She screamed so loud, so long.

Suffocating. Devastating. Permeating.

The soprano howl of her scream echoed through her ears as her body hit the ground.

* * *

When she woke up, there was a collective sigh of relief. She sat up, and her head spun.

"Lay down, Hermione." Felix…?

…A wet rag dabbed at her head. Voices, debating. Who were they talking about? A light went out…

…Spinning colors. A door slammed. Would she ever wake up? She couldn't open her eyes. The dim light hurt…

…"Has she said anything?" Cold voice. Unfriendly…worried? No, not about her…who…?

…"Dra…Felix?" Hermione's tongue wouldn't form the words right.

"Felix! She's waking up!" Harry ran to the next room.

"Want me to find Draco?" Ginny asked privately.

"I don't…where's…" Hermione's tongue ceased function…

…"We have to get rid of him. He physically attacked her! He's become a danger. He never acted this way before. It's the stress."

"But, we can't! He's vital to our success!"

Footsteps.

"Oh, hi, Tristan," the voice was strained suddenly…

…"So, it's agreed?"

A steady chorus of agreement rang out.

"I'll escort you back to the Manor."

Her heart reached deafening levels.

"N-n-no," her voice cracked. "I—wha—wait—,"

"We'll take you to the boarder. If you're father attacks you again, you're on your own."

Sick, breaking…a smile so sweet, she wished it would stay on his face forever…careful, gentle hands, picking her up off of the floor…nightmares…Dittany…golden light…a prince…

"No!" She cried. Her eyes opened. "NO!"


	12. Kingdom

**Summary: What do you get when you mix a stressed Hermione, an irate Malfoy, three new Order members, all of whom have eyes for the bookworm, suspicious best friends, and a mystery yet to be solved? Full-fledged insanity. SAME STORY, DIFFERENT SUMMARY. Enjoy!**

Previously: Hermione has been assigned to taking care of Malfoy, poor girl. She and Felix have hit it off very well, and are trying to figure out why Lucius and Bellatrix left him for dead. Eventually, Hermione and Malfoy bond after she frightens him with her female fury. She has fluctuating dreams about her prince, ranging from golden rooms, to terrifying darkness. She is startled when she finds out that Draco calmed her after one of her worst nightmares.

* * *

Most recently Hermione has taken a stand against Tristan, Felix's friend, who has been cruel to Draco. As she expressed her joy to Draco, Tristan interrupts and his presence causes Hermione to pass out. Upon awaking, Hermione hears that they are returning Draco to the Malfoy Manor.

* * *

Chapter 11: Kingdom

A long, pale finger gently ran over the desk surface, its owner in absentminded wonder. The man in question stared across the room, eyes blank and unseeing, his only sense of awareness encased in the solitary fingertip brushing the varnished, mahogany desk in slow, meandering strokes.

His sense was so focused on the piece of furniture that he could feel every divot and crack in the ostensibly smooth surface. Every other portion of his body was numb to his luxurious surroundings. His back refused to appreciate the plush embrace of the leather chair he occupied and his feet did not register the comfort of his fitted boots. He didn't enjoy the feel of his expensive clothing as he normally did.

Quiet erupted around him. The dull thudding of ears too long trapped in such overpowering silence was not enough to rouse him from his catatonic state. There was only the faint whisper of fingertip on polished wood.

How long he has sat there was unknown even to him. His eyes were dry and stinging from the lack of sleep, their arid, red appearance the only evidence of his length of departure from reality. If his finger did not move in its pendulum-like manner, a visitor might assume the man had passed on.

This mindless ritual did not falter when the large, oaken double doors across the room burst open, and a wild-eyed, dark countenanced woman stalked into the room.

The woman, whose age was undeterminable under her pale complexion and heavy lidded gaze, approached the desk and man with hostile slowness. Her steps jerked and her hands shook, giving her sudden manifestation an even more evil ambience.

The man did not look at her as she stopped merely three feet away, nor did he halt his finger's track. He had not moved an inch; he seemed not to notice any change.

"You cannot continue to sit here while the rest of us suffer," the woman sneered venomously. "While we answer to your failures, you simply snivel in your office. Are you a Death Eater or not? Are you the Dark Lord's second or not?"

Silver eyes moved slowly and rested their dry gaze on the woman's battered form. He saw her without registering.

She scoffed at his weak pain. "You have disgraced us. You've disgraced your own heritage. You skulk here, cowering from your just punishment. I have not the slightest idea of why our Dark Lord has not sought you out and demanded reparations for your acts."

She slammed her palm on the desk, jarring his finger's perfect motion. The man raised his arm and set the offended hand in his lap. He continued to stare at the increasingly maddened woman.

"I have half the mind to kill you right here," she persisted, now pacing around the room.

"We both know you would not dare risk the Dark Lord's wrath by doing so." Lucius's voice cracked with disuse as he went on. "You have a lot of nerve intruding upon my thoughts, Bellatrix."

"Thoughts?" Bellatrix Lestrange's high cackle rang through the room, shattering the previously tolerable atmosphere. "You haven't formed a coherent thought since my sister ran out on you!"

Lucius stood swiftly, ignoring his screaming, cramped legs. "You'd do well to avoid such instigations, _Bella_. I'd hate to have to present your corpse to our Dark Lord." His voice remained calm and deadly.

Bellatrix's eyes gave away her growing amusement. She could not stop her goading nature. "I must admit that Cissy's desertion first caused me much shame. She betrayed me and the great Black family name and must be punished for leaving the Dark Lord's circle. But as I watch you degenerate, I feel I understand her wish to leave. You are not the man you once were, Lucius. You've allowed petty feelings to engulf your once inherent dignity. She was right to leave a frightful—"

"ENOUGH!" Lucius's roar split the air with a voluminous crack. He swiftly skirted the desk and slapped his insulting sister-in-law clear across her face. A faint, pink smudge rose to her paper white cheek and she raised a trembling hand to the injury.

"I will not tolerate your tongue any longer, Bellatrix," he spat, pushing her into a bookcase, "I allowed your presence because of Narcissa, but now that she has gone, I have no qualms by removing your filthy being from my manor." He accentuated his speech with a shove of her shoulders. She stepped to the side, hand searching for the doors.

"You, you would not dare," she stuttered, eyes narrowing in triumphant realization, "my merciful Lord would not permit your refusal of my company! This may be your house, Lucius, but it is the Dark Lord's Kingdom. He rules, you obey."

Lucius smirked coldly and a flicker of fear and unwilling respect crossed Bellatrix's eyes. "That may be so," he whispered, "but I am his second. You're merely a disposable pawn. You just haven't accepted it yet." Lucius forced her from the room and slammed the door shut.

Once the insufferable woman had been removed, Lucius returned to his chair and fell again into his stupor. His senses remained this time, though, and he collected his mind. It was time to face this mess. Whether Lord Voldemort decided to come and retrieve him mattered little to Lucius. He needed to think. He needed no more interruptions.

It had been nearly three months since his son's disappearance and his wife's abandonment. He had no idea where Draco had gone. And his wife's wild accusations of Lucius violently attacking their son had fallen on perplexed ears.

At first, Lucius blamed their situation. Clearly the Dark Lord's overshadowing presence had caused Narcissa to lose her calm demeanor and in her trauma, she had imagined wild tales.

Bellatrix had been equally confused with her sister's irrational behavior, but quickly her concern had been replaced by hideous rage when Narcissa left. Bellatrix took very unkindly to betrayal. It was simply not thought of and never, ever done.

Lucius shuddered when a small wail of loss broke free of his lips. His heart cried out. And he hated it. He hated this loss of control. He hated feeling weak with grief. He hated knowing that only a few rooms away sat Lord Voldemort and the others, discussing his ultimate fate, while he sat here mourning the loss of his wife and son. This wasn't the way of a Death Eater.

He drew in a shaky breath, and groaned as he recounted his wife's splendid face. Her smooth skin was undaunted by the ravages of time and her crystalline gaze dazzled him. He reminisced over the times she had smiled genuinely, and silently cursed his ill-fated destiny. He would never have involved her, if he'd known.

He supposed there was one small silver lining in his dilemma. Lord Voldemort hardly seemed interested in Narcissa's leave. Bellatrix was the one looking for punishment for her sister, but the Dark Lord had other things on his mind to be bothered by a Death Eater's rogue wife. As far as he was concerned, Narcissa's disappearance was all the better for Lucius.

"Now you shall be better suited for the tasks I lay ahead of you," Lord Voldemort had decreed upon hearing of Narcissa, "Matrimonial status greatly reduces logic and good sense, Lucius, think of this as a much deserved reprieve from a nightmare. You now can save the greater good of Purebloods everywhere."

Lucius sobbed as another spasm of grief wracked his body. His thoughts had landed on his son, Draco. His brilliant son who showed so much promise as, perhaps not a Death Eater, but as a dominating figure in society. Draco had shown every ounce of Lucius's leadership skills. He just lacked the desire it seemed, to act accordingly.

Lord Voldemort had not broach the subject of Draco at all. Lucius gave a bark of scornful laughter. His master had never shown interest in the young Malfoy. He only viewed Draco as a tool for bribery and obedience when Narcissa and Lucius raised any sort of protest. Lucius's vanished son mattered nothing whatsoever to Lord Voldemort. He was capable of finding alternate means of commanding obedience.

What hurt the most were Narcissa's accusations. Despite whatever people might think, Lucius would never lay a hand against Draco. No, this was not true. He had punished the boy numerous times. But he would never act in such a way as Narcissa claimed. And nor would Bellatrix, he thought. Bella's affection for the boy solely rested in that she bestowed upon her sister. As long as she had Narcissa, the only person Lucius was certain Bellatrix loved aside from their master, Bella would never do anything to harm her or her family.

Lucius sighed and rose to his feet. Once again his legs screamed their fatigue, but he persisted to the door. He planned to skirt the meeting that occupied the massive dining area and go right up to his rooms. If Lord Voldemort had wished to punish him for his isolation, Lucius was certain he would have done so already.

As he approached the room, he heard the Dark Lords, high voice emptily consoling Bellatrix who regarded him with wide, hungry eyes. Lucius sneered disdainfully at Bella's stance. She clung to her master so furiously, never leaving his side unless absolutely necessary. This devotion was key to her long life span. Most Death Eaters didn't last as long. Lord Voldemort tired easily, especially of weakness.

Yet as he watched Bellatrix, Lucius felt a swell of revulsion at the way her eyes feasted upon the dark wizard. There was unsuppressed greed and longing in her eyes. She remained deluded as ever. Lucius backed away from the door; certain Lord Voldemort knew he had been watching, but made it to his room without incident.

There he bathed and dressed in his nightwear. He climbed into the lonely bed that awaited him. There he lay staring up at the canopy above. He felt he knew where Narcissa had fled. She had family in Switzerland. Bellatrix had pointed this out, but seemed unconcerned with giving chase without her dear master's approval.

Lucius rolled to his side and closed his eyes. There he fell asleep, anticipating dreams of his family at a time when Death did not control their fate.

* * *

Multiple pairs of eyes regarded her with astonishment.

Hermione struggled vainly to rise, wrapped in quilts and pillows, crying hysterically as she did so.

Ginny rushed to her side, one step ahead of Felix, trying to calm her down. Hermione became hypersensitive to the spinning rush of colors swarming her eyes. She was vaguely aware of screaming "No" over and over again.

"Hermione," Felix shouted, wrenching her flailing arms to her sides, "Hermione! What is wrong? Is it another nightmare? It's okay, it's fine! We are removing Malfoy, don't fret anymore!"

At the mention of Malfoy, Hermione twisted frantically in her spot on the couch, searching out the pale figure standing alone in a corner, momentarily forgotten by the other patrons of the room. He stared at Hermione, startled.

When her eyes found him, she settled into quieted sobbing, still struggling gently against the confinement surrounding her. Felix took her reaction the wrong way.

"That's right," he crooned, rubbing her back, "He won't be able to hurt you anymore."

Hermione froze on the spot and turned blazing eyes on Felix. "Hurt me? HURT ME?"

"Shh, Hermione," Ginny spluttered, "You must relax!"

"He never hurt me!" Hermione was beyond listening to warm words of concern; she kicked away the last of the blankets and jumped to her feet, regretting it instantly.

The room swayed and she stumbled sideways as black pressed in around her vision. She felt herself careening toward the ground and braced herself instinctively for the collision. She opened her eyes, however, when she merely felt herself bump gently into a warm body.

Edward cradled her into his side and helped her sit back down. "Hermione, you need to stay lying down, you took quite a knock on the head earlier."

"I can't," she whispered.

"She is obviously terrified to be in the same room as him," a soft, familiarly menacing voice attributed.

Hermione glanced over and felt her heart pound frenetically against her ribs. Tristan regarded her with malice and contempt. Everyone else mistook this for disgust at her state thanks to Malfoy.

"Right," Sirius murmured, "Tristan, Felix, Edward. You three escort Mr. Malfoy back to his house. Harry—"

No!" She was screaming again. She felt temporarily sorry for her sore, aching throat, but kept declaring her anguish through yelling.

"Hermione." This time Harry attempted placating her, "It's alright. What's the matter?"

"Draco didn't do anything to me!" Her statement made everyone freeze. "I was talking to him willingly!"

Hermione recounted her conversation with Draco, recalling that she just felt like talking to someone who hadn't angered her earlier that day.

"And then Tristan came in," she shuddered as she spoke the man's name, "and suddenly I felt terrified. I don't know why, it's just like he made the room darker. He came over to take me away from the room and then I passed out."

Aware that everyone looked at her as though regarding a patient in a mental ward, Hermione shook her head defiantly. "Taking Draco back to the manor would only be signing his death warrant for a crime he didn't commit!"

Everyone turned immediately to look at Tristan. Hermione managed a small smile of triumph. Tristan, however, remained unperturbed.

"Dear, poor Hermione," he smiled sadly. He crossed the room and sat next to her. She cringed away from Tristan's touch, acutely aware of Draco's tensing shoulders. When the copper-haired man's hand landed gently on her arm, though, Hermione only felt soothing calm. It felt good. It took all her will not to lean closer to Tristan.

Tristan turned to consider the crowd. "She seems to have forgotten what transpired. I entered the room to collect her, to ask her why she had appeared so upset and frantic while addressing us. She stood to follow, but Malfoy held her back. I advanced to help her, and I believe the shock of our argument and his ill-placed hand forced Hermione into a panic attack. Thus encumbered, she fell into a faint."

Hermione had to hand it to him. He certainly could spin a good lie.

"That is hardly what happened," she growled, wrenching herself away from his light grasp, "You scared me! You were the one who made me faint! You were absolutely beastly and terrifying!"

Tristan looked at her with sorrowful eyes. "You do not remember? I picked you up Hermione," his voice held just the right touch of pleading. "I carried you in my arms and laid you here. I stayed by your side until Ginny could fetch Felix. I'd never lay a hand against you."

Unbidden to her mind came flashes of these memories. She also saw Draco smirking sardonically as he stood over her crumpled form. Lies.

"No!" She spat again. She looked at Ginny. "No," she said again, beseeching her friend to back her up.

Ginny frowned. "He did bring you down here, Hermione. He was very protective of you."

Hermione felt her eyes widen. "Maybe so! But it was all an act!" She then brought her gaze to Draco once more. She pushed past Tristan and walked right up to the sullen blonde. Multiple hands reached for their respective wands as she approached him.

She looked up into his eyes. "Right?" She begged. "You didn't do anything." Tears were trailing down her cheeks again. "You didn't."

Draco stared down at her, defeat clouding his face. "It doesn't matter what I say," Draco glanced around the room at the hostile witches and wizards. His eyes returned to Hermione's face. She gave a gasping sob when he shook his head. "They'll not believe me, Granger."

"This is not right!" Hermione screamed when Felix and Edward took up their positions on either side of Draco. "You're condemning him to death! He didn't do anything!"

She felt the hysterics coming back. She tried vainly to surge forward but was halted by two arms restraining her. Draco snarled and stepped forward, "Don't touch her."

Edward and Felix grabbed him and forced him back. Hermione looked over her shoulder and began struggling against Tristan's embrace. She began wailing.

Sirius gave a stout nod and Felix and Edward began frog marching Draco towards the door. "They'll leave you with your wand," Sirius explained, "So you are not helpless upon returning."

Hermione cried harder still. She couldn't stop this. Her uselessness goaded her. She could never help anyone. She cried and cried. She felt her knees hit the floor, still rationalizing that this was not right. She knew Draco would die, and it was all her fault. Ginny stooped by her and she let the girl hold her close. Everyone else clucked sympathetically. They believed Tristan. Hermione was simply delirious. She would recover.

The house, once her domain, fell from her grasp. She no longer felt bound by it. She cast it away, a painful nightmare, nothing more.

Everyone else left the room, leaving Ginny to hold Hermione, her last tie to reality.

And still Hermione cried.


	13. When Others are Blind

Hi all! I'm not even going to explain my absence. I could have had this written ages ago. Hope you still enjoy :)

* * *

Previously: Hermione has been assigned to taking care of Malfoy, poor girl. She and Felix have hit it off very well, and are trying to figure out why Lucius and Bellatrix left him for dead. Eventually, Hermione and Malfoy bond after she frightens him with her female fury. She has fluctuating dreams about her prince, ranging from golden rooms, to terrifying darkness. She is startled when she finds out that Draco calmed her after one of her worst nightmares.

* * *

Most recently the story has shown a glimpse of Lucius's state of being. He's confused as to his son's whereabouts and Narcissa's reasons for abandoning the Manor. Hermione stands up desperately for Draco's fate, but fails as Sirius tells Tristan, Edward, and Felix to return the Slytherin to his father, and seemingly, his death.

* * *

**Chapter 12: When Others are Blind…**

Three sets of feet trampled through the thickly grown forest, kicking up fallen leaves in their steady yet fervent wake. A fourth set dragged between them.

"Are we just going to leave him where we found him?"

Tristan glanced behind him at the three men. Felix was looking at him questioningly.

"No, we'll put him somewhere Lucius will find him."

They continued onward, keenly aware of the dangerous territory they now occupied.

"What if he wakes up before we drop him?" Edward motioned to the pale, sickly man he and Felix supported. "What if he goes off on us?"

Tristan stopped. He gave a cautious sweep of the area with a copper gaze before addressing his friend.

"Do you really think he'd be able to accomplish much before we silenced him?"

Edward nodded, acknowledging the obvious answer. "Yeah, but what if there are Death Eaters out here? Surely the son of one would know exactly where they're positioned."

Felix gave a small shudder and eyed the trees suspiciously. Tristan rolled his eyes.

"Please, even if a Death Eater showed up, we wouldn't really have much to worry about." Tristan continued forward, beckoning the other two to keep towing Malfoy. "Besides, we could always use the bastard as a human shield."

Felix snorted in amusement. Edward grimaced.

They'd already been hiking through the dead woods for an hour. He wondered how much longer they'd have to go. Despite his thinness, Malfoy weighed a lot while in a faint.

Finally they reached an area close enough to the house that Tristan felt certain the Death Eaters would find their little gift.

"I still don't see what the point of these past few months has been." Edward slowly unwound Malfoy's arm from around his shoulder, wincing as Felix merely dropped the man. "I mean, what has his presence at the Headquarters accomplished?"

Felix sat down on a nearby rock. "Yeah, he didn't answer much. And we barely talked to him."

Tristan turned. He had been staring intently at the Manor. "The point?" He strolled to where Malfoy lay unconscious on the forest floor and frowned down at him. "The point was to get this schmuck away from here."

Above them, a branch snapped beneath the weight of a crow. It burst from the trees, cawing wildly. Felix shuddered again. Edward directed his attention to Tristan.

"Well, he's here again…doesn't that defeat the purpose?"

"Not at all."

"How?"

"My dear Edward," Tristan smiled consolingly, "Are you regretting bringing him back?"

Felix looked at Edward, who shook his head quickly. "Of course not. He's a slimy git and I'm glad to be rid of him. But I just don't understand what it was that we saved him from."

Tristan laughed, not bothering to remain quiet. "Save? Who said we were trying to save him anyway? He was a diversion."

Edward started. "A diversion from what?"

Tristan sighed and lightly shoved Malfoy with his boot. "That was the wrong word to use. I simply meant he was a small assurance."

Edward closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. "Wait a minute. An assurance of _what_?"

Felix piped up. "I guess having a captive made it look like the Order is actually getting somewhere."

"That's exactly it." Tristan smiled again, it didn't reach his eyes. "As long as we're doing _something_, the Order expects nothing."

"I still don't see—"

"Edward, if we had nothing to go on regarding You-Know-Who, what would you conclude?"

"That he was doing a bloody good job of covering his tracks."

"Precisely. What would you also believe?"

"That he's planning something."

Tristan widened his eyes in a manner that said: See?

Edward's brow furrowed when it registered. "So you're saying false hope is better than no hope?"

"No, no, not at all." Tristan walked around Malfoy, who still lay unmoving on the ground. "I mean so long as we're doing work, the Order will feel useful. It's purely psychological."

"It's purely a lie." Edward stood and crossed his arms. "What are we really doing here, Tristan?"

Felix looked anxiously between the two men. "Guys, we should really be getting back." He averted his gaze to the darkening sky, briefly contemplated Malfoy, and rested his eyes on the foreboding house not one hundred yards from them.

Tristan and Edward took no notice of their friend.

"So let's hear it, Tristan. What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing."

"Bull."

Felix leapt to his feet as another crow cawed. "Seriously, guys, we should be back to the Order by now." He stepped nimbly over Malfoy and stood between the others.

"Edward," Tristan said, "you seem to be forgetting something."

"What?"

"Hermione talked to Malfoy frequently. And she's been working with Felix to find out about You-Know-Who. Even if Malfoy's unpleasant stay seemed to yield nothing, we still have much information to be gleaned from her. And deductions can be made by the git's emotional and behavioral tendencies."

"You know as well as I do that if Hermione found anything regarding Lucius and You-Know-Who, she would have said something. And she wasn't exactly overjoyed when we were told to return Malfoy."

Tristan gestured at Malfoy. "You don't honestly believe she'd defend this? You saw how hysterical she was. Clearly her nightmares and the stress from all this Death Eater nonsense have worn her nerves to threads."

Edward considered Malfoy. He knew Tristan was right. Hermione wouldn't willingly defend someone who had bullied her for seven years. Still, he couldn't help but remember the wild, pleading look in her eyes as she begged them not to take him away.

A cool breeze ruffled the leaves above and Edward shivered. He suddenly felt much more certain of the situation.

"Okay. Well, I guess it's time to go then." He turned and began the trek back through the woods.

Tristan looked at a Felix who shrugged.

"Do you have the idiot's wand?"

"Yes." Felix withdrew the thin piece of wood from his sleeve. He tossed it on the ground next to Malfoy and followed Edward.

Tristan watched his friend for a minute before looking back down at his enemy. He sneered and spat on the ground at Malfoy's feet before following.

* * *

Room—small, as always.

Hallway—dark, destroyed, anguished; not so common.

Stairs—broken and shattered; again, not so common.

Room—inaccessible.

A pitiful moan from inside and the remaining silence threatening to explode her eardrums cause Hermione to scream. The shadows darken.

"Hermione…"

Hermione sat upright, gasping for breath. She spun around in her chair, wand out, blinking in the bright sunlight. She glanced down at the desk before her. Several copies of the Daily Prophet lay scattered about. She slowly pocketed her wand.

Reaching out she grabbed a few scraps of paper and jerked them so that they lay in front of her. She smoothed the wrinkled sheets out and grabbed a quill, succeeding in knocking over an inkwell. Unfazed, Hermione bent over the parchment and began scribbling in a maddened frenzy.

This was the first time that she ever recorded her dreams. She hardly knew what compelled her to do so now, but she felt as though she should begin. Details kept changing.

After several minutes of uninterrupted scratching, Hermione dropped the quill and looked over her work. She had also written down everything she could remember about her initial dreams, the ones where the hallway had been bright and the stairway pristine.

Then she scoffed and tossed the papers in a draw next to her chair and cleaned up the inkwell. She glanced at the overhead mirror. Her eyes were still red and watery.

She glared at the mirror and went back to the contents of her desk. There were at least seven copies of the Daily Prophet spanning over the past two months. She knew there were other copies, but when she had stormed the work room where she and Felix had researched, she had only grabbed up a few in her haste.

That had been three hours ago.

She looked at the clock next to the mirror. She had fallen asleep for forty-five minutes.

Shuffling through the numerous papers, Hermione located her notepad and reviewed her notes. They weren't anything extraordinary. A muggle dead here, a half-blood vanished there—nothing new.

But Hermione knew that Voldemort was behind it all. She was just missing vital pieces.

She flipped through the notepad, glancing at the dates and the few bullet points that dotted the pages. She came to the spot where she had written down everything Tristan, Edward, and Felix had reported a few months ago and everything Draco had divulged.

A few leftover tears escaped their confines and blotted the notes. Hermione blinked them away angrily.

She set the pad down and leaned back in her chair, exhaustion overwhelming her mind. Something important eluded her grasp and it was pissing her off.

She drummed her fingers on the desk surface, thinking. Tristan and Edward. Felix. Draco. Murderous relatives and nothing earth shattering being done by Voldemort. The motive? Did a mystery even exist?

She picked up her quill and jotted a few things down here and there, giving her agitated fingers something to do.

"Hermione?"

Hermione flinched at the sudden break in silence, but continued on.

Ginny entered the room, stepping around books and papers. "It's almost dinner time."

Hermione didn't look up. Her eyes remained fixed to the quill as it scratched out more meaningless speculations.

"They just got back," Ginny ventured to mention.

The tip of the quill snapped and ink splattered her papers. Hermione tossed the quill to the floor and reached for another. She could see Ginny debating in the mirror.

Soon Ginny left. Hermione siphoned up the drying ink that obscured the sheets. She stood and went downstairs.

When she entered the dining room, she couldn't assume embarrassment for interrupting conversation: everyone was eating in silence already.

She walked to the far end of the table and sat next to Ginny. Everyone had strategically placed themselves so she wouldn't be near anyone she wouldn't want to be.

She poked uninterestedly at the gorgeous meal Mrs. Weasley had prepared.

She knew that anxious eyes darted to her throughout the meal. She didn't look anywhere but at her food.

No one spoke, not even to ask to be passed food. She assumed they gestured.

One by one the table emptied. Ginny remained until everyone else had gone. She waited for Hermione. She waited in vain.

"Hermione—"

"Don't."

Hermione was appalled at her voice. It was dry and even. No inflection.

Ginny sighed and stood. She went upstairs.

Hermione stayed seated. Turning things over in her mind as meticulously as her fork turned over the pasta on her plate.

She stood.

At the top of the stairs, she turned toward her room. She hadn't been upstairs all day.

She came to the door next to hers and stopped. She went in.

Everything was the same as it was the last time she was in there. Twenty-four hours ago. She looked at the bed—it was made. The pale, tattered rug on the dusty floor was the only thing that showed inhabitance. It was crooked; Hermione could see the outline it had created in the dust. Had she dislodged it when she collapsed?

She walked to the bed and sat down. It creaked in protest. A few flakes of decaying paint fluttered to the ground.

She stared at the speaking box at the head of the bed. It was open and clean, unlike other things in the room.

She stood and walked around, thinking again. She stopped when she noticed it. She couldn't have been the one to dislodge the carpet. It was in the middle of the room away from the bed, which was where she had fallen.

Had Tristan and Draco fought? No, Tristan would have mentioned that in his monologue earlier.

She moved the carpet back and began pacing. She didn't know how long she was at it before she stumbled. She looked down, and felt the tears return.

The carpet had moved.

Draco had paced. Paced up and down, frantically as she had just been doing. Wondering. Worrying. About her.

Hermione crouched and hugged her knees to her chest. She let the tears fall. She let the pain return, coursing through her body. Guilt, disgust, and helplessness all bombarded her at once.

What had it all been for?

Nothing.

Hermione sat straighter.

Nothing.

But it had felt like everything.

Lies.

Tristan.

She stood and grabbed the Dittany off the bedside table. There was still plenty inside. She then went to her room. Ginny was asleep.

She scuffled through her closet and grabbed her backpack, shoving the Dittany into the bottom. She also put on a pair of boots and a jacket. Next she tied her hair up in a bun and went downstairs to the work room.

She browsed through the potion shelf grabbing up Veritasiarum, a Beozar, and other odds and ends. She then reached for Polyjuice Potion and Felix Felicis. Gone.

Hermione thought back. She and Felix had just brewed two bottles of each two days ago. And there had been no need for them since then.

Hermione bit her lip. She couldn't waste time making some now. She'd just have to deal with any obstacles the old fashioned way.

She hurried to the kitchen and forced down cold leftovers. They landed heavily in her stomach, tasteless but filling. She couldn't do this on an empty stomach. She then stuffed food into the remaining pockets of her backpack.

Making sure she had her notepad from earlier and her wand, Hermione went out the back door.

The night was cool and wet. A mist blanketed the neighborhood and a breeze whispered through the trees.

Marching out of the back gate, Hermione didn't look at the house as she turned on the spot and apparated.


	14. See for Yourself

Ahhh! Could it be? An update not so long after the last? AHHHH! I hope you guys don't get spoiled...school starts up again on Monday :( But I hope you enjoy :D

**Chapter 13: …See for Yourself**

Hermione stumbled as her feet hit the uneven terrain. Reaching out, she steadied herself with the help of a nearby branch. She straightened out and looked around.

The forest had changed drastically since she had last laid eyes on it. The crisp fall air had taken its toll on the unsuspecting leaves that now crunched under Hermione's feet. Only three months ago, they had been lush and green, still attached to parenting trees.

The sun had just about disappeared behind the distant hillside that was still visible between the mass of trees. Hermione let her eyes adjust to the dim light before trudging forward. She wasn't going to stop for anything.

As she clambered around the decaying leaves and old rotting branches, Hermione tried to remember her bearings. She didn't know whether Tristan would leave Malfoy where they had found him all those months ago, but she felt it was as good a place as any to start.

The hair on the back of her neck and arms bristled against the goose bump inducing breeze that moaned around her. Every creak of the boughs above her and every skitter of the leaves on the ground sent her reaching, panicked, for her wand.

The forest smelled soggy and old, but it sounded evil and alive.

Hermione guessed she probably looked braver than she felt. Or else she was pretending she was braver than she actually was. But each of her nerves was a livewire, ready to snap viciously at the first sign of hostility. She kept walking.

Luckily, she knew where she was going. Unfortunately, she didn't know if it was the correct destination. And she wasn't about to call out to discover if her hypothesis was true.

The sunlight was now gone. "Lumos," Hermione flicked her wand and held her hand over it to dim the light as much as she could. She only needed enough to see a few feet in front of her.

She kept on, praying she wouldn't find Draco in the same mess she had found him in.

After several breathless moments, Hermione came to the cave-like enclosure she had found three months ago. She dared to breathe again. "Draco?"

Nothing.

She poked around among the rocks. Still nothing. Not even a misplaced shoe or scuffle marks to show habitation.

She tried not to be upset. She wasn't really surprised that this wasn't where Tristan had left Draco. But it was still a letdown. She didn't want to be anywhere near Malfoy Manor for longer than she had to.

She stood and headed north, knowing that she'd eventually have to come close to the forbidding ancestral home of Voldemort's strongest supporter.

Soon, the monstrosity loomed above her, black against the paler sky. She gulped. Behind her, a branch snapped under a heavy, misplaced foot.

* * *

Draco lay absolutely still.

He had regained consciousness at least twenty minutes ago. He still didn't feel like opening his eyes. He didn't need sight to tell him he was back in Hell, even if it was cold and leafy.

He sighed. The back of his head throbbed with pain where Tristan had struck him with a nasty underhanded curse. Stupefy hurt like any heavy, solid object when it cracked against one's skull.

His fingers were going to cease function if he didn't move them soon. He curled them. Slowly. They wouldn't move any faster than that.

His bones hurt.

No, they screamed in agony. It had to be well below freezing temperature. He wondered why it wasn't snowing. He opened his eyes.

Oh, he thought, that's why.

Stars winked at him merrily in the deep blue sky. He estimated the time. Probably one in the morning.

Goddamn. How hard did the bastard hit me?

The last thing he remembered was the glowing sunset splashing across the decrepit furniture of the Order's hideout while Granger sat on the couch crying. Pleading. For him.

He winced. Stupid girl, she should have known they wouldn't believe it.

Draco tested moving his toes. They were worse off than his numb fingers. He moved his legs until his feet were flat on the forest floor and his knees pointed skyward. Slowly, he bent his arms and brought his head up.

Spots danced around his eyes. He felt disgusting. He rose until he could wrap his arms around his legs. It was a bit warmer this way.

It felt good to bend his spine. He flattened his legs out and reached for his toes.

Ah.

Still more slowly, he got to his feet and turned around. He quickly sat back down.

His house stood before him. Lights were on. _Someone_ was home.

He didn't know how he felt after the first shock ebbed away. Indifferent? Maybe. So far, no one had found him. Maybe they'd never look. He didn't care. A wave of nausea caused him to lie back. His head thudded into something hard.

It's about bloody time, he unceremoniously thanked. He clutched onto his wand vigorously. I'm never letting you go again.

The only decision he had to make was gnawing at his mind. It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to contemplate.

Stay, or leave?

Be found, or take chances elsewhere?

Ambiguity lay with both choices.

He looked again at the house. He stood and went the other way.

There was more world out there than the house that rose evilly behind him, but there was less chance of seeing it if he went inside. The world was deadly, but the house may as well have been built with bones and surrounded by a moat filled with blood. Draco felt better as he put some distance between himself and the mansion.

He began to cut to the right, figuring he could use the road that his childhood told him was on the other side of the woods. He'd be in sight, but he'd be able to get a better handle on things. Besides, now that he had his wand, he didn't feel helpless anymore.

The house watched his every move. He was transfixed by it, not paying attention, when his foot clumsily snapped a fallen branch. Someone in front of him gasped.

* * *

She raised her wand and let the full illumination fall ahead of her.

"Draco?" She rushed forward.

* * *

Draco threw his hand up to block out the blinding light.

His ears pricked as an all too familiar voice called his name.

Suddenly he was hit with a force he wasn't ready for.

* * *

Hermione latched onto her enemy, burying her head into his shoulder and sighing in relief. He was alive and at least decently unharmed. Neither of them moved for several moments.

* * *

Draco stared down his nose at the disarray of brown hair that currently burrowed into his shoulder. His arms were pinned to his sides by the vice-like embrace that captured him. His wand hung, futilely, in his hand.

"Erm, Granger?"

He vaguely heard the muffled, "Yes?"

He felt her arms loosen and used the freedom to peel her away from him. He was becoming rather flustered. Holding her at arm's length, he scrutinized her. She had leaves in her hair. If she had ever looked more like a bird's nest…

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm yet again collecting you."

* * *

Hermione looked up at Draco, wondering why he was staring at her so strongly. He seemed to be lost in a memory.

"Draco? Would you rather stay here?"

"Are you kidding me?" He shook his head. "But where do you propose we go?"

"The Order of course." Hermione frowned at his lack of understanding.

Draco bared his teeth. "Think about that for a moment, Granger."

"Well, what do _you_ propose?"

"Anywhere but there."

"This isn't getting us anywhere." She was getting angry. He could show an inkling of gratitude.

"Well, I just don't see the point of going back to a place that will just get me back here. It will all be a painfully vicious circle, don't you agree?"

God, he was so smarmy.

Hermione crossed her arms. "Where then?"

"I don't know! I don't even know if there is a place that we can go where no one will recognize me. And furthermore, I'd be the only one going. You should go back to the Order. They'll be missing you."

"I'm not going back there."

"The hell you aren't."

"I'm serious. I'm coming with you."

"Granger, I will forcibly march you back."

Both of them glared at each other. They were several feet apart, breathing heavily. Draco snorted and began pacing. Each step brought him a little closer to Hermione.

"What if—"

He was nearly face to face with her. Or more so, face to top of her head with her.

She looked up at him, brow furrowed. "I don't know what to do."

"I don't know either," he whispered.

* * *

She was looking at him strangely.

It was disconcerting.

It wasn't right. She should still be yelling at him. Calling him Ferret…something. Not this. Not looking at him so sadly, from under her lashes. He never noticed how they curled before.

He felt like he should jump back. Jump back and go find a cold puddle. Why the hell wasn't it snowing? Oh, right…

He shifted as she stepped closer. He could smell her shampoo.

He had to sneeze. He needed a tissue. He was ready to run up to the house behind Hermione to ask for one. Surely Bellatrix could spare one?

He was vaguely aware of her night numbed hands on his neck, vaguely aware of his face lowering to hers.

Fully aware as her pale lips brushed his for the merest of seconds.

* * *

It was brighter than the hallway in her dreams.

It was brighter than that day with Felix.

It was brighter than Draco's fleeting smile and beautiful body.

It was too bright. She broke away.

Her hands remained on his neck and she stared intently at chin, which was at her eye level. She didn't know what else to do.

* * *

Draco felt like someone at smacked the back of his head again.

The past, it seemed, was no longer a factor. Things were so odd.

Odd. But good at the same time. What the hell was going on here?

He looked down at Hermione's head. She was staring ahead, afraid to look him in the eyes.

For some reason his previously numbed fingers tilted her chin back.

"Granger, what…I mean…oh bloody hell."

* * *

He was beautiful in the starlight. His hair shone. It was…silver.

He was talking. She was spinning.

"Who's there?"

They both jumped and he threw her behind him. She could see again.

Lucius and Bellatrix crashed through the trees.

Both of them glared maniacally on the scene in front of them.

* * *

Draco stood, frozen. There they were. The two who had caused him so much agony. And he couldn't move.

His brain was way ahead of him though.

He gripped Hermione's hand.

"I found her snooping around here."

Hermione whimpered.

Bellatrix's wand lowered slightly.

"Well, I'm impressed. Is this what you've been up to, Draco?"

* * *

Things were flying past her point of registration. Draco found her? Bellatrix was consulting Lucius, who fixed a steady, leering gaze on Hermione. She shrunk behind Draco.

* * *

"Well," Bellatrix continued "Draco, why don't you bring her up to the house?"

Draco paled. His brain wasn't helping anymore.

* * *

Hermione screamed as he wrenched her around and struck her in the jaw with a closed fist.

Stars exploded around her as she felt her body hit the ground. She let herself fade away.

It had been so serene, just a moment ago…


	15. Family Reunion

Chapter 14. It's been a while, has it not? Inspiration struck last night. I'm relieved that it did :)

* * *

**Chapter 14: Family Reunion**

Hermione feared for a moment that she had gone blind. Her eyes were wide open, but the darkness didn't lighten. The initial shock of awakening in a strange place was dwarfed by her inability to see anything. It was lack of vision that inspired the shiver-inducing perspiration that now dampened her skin. If she had awoken to a torch-lit dungeon, she wouldn't have been as scared.

Thankfully enough, she eventually found a pale strip of dim light running three feet across the stone floor in front of her. She crawled forward, tentatively brushing each hand across the surface as she moved. She didn't know what she would do if she felt something furry or slimy move under her shaking palm; she tried not to think about it.

Upon reaching the light, Hermione felt a soft breeze flowing from the crack under the door. She stretched her body out until she was flat on her stomach, and peered under the passage. She couldn't make out anything of interest. She scanned the area beyond, willing her pupils to expand just a fraction of a centimeter more. One more sweep yielded results. She made out a pair of feet.

The embarrassing screech that issued forth from her mouth startled her just as much as the eternal blackness had. She clamped a hand over her lips as she scurried backward over the hard floor, painfully aware of impending bruises.

After calming her undulating breath, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to stop shaking. She mentally berated herself for acting so timidly. She crept forward again and squinted under the door. The feet hadn't moved.

She stared for a long time at the anatomy before she noticed something odd. She moved her head back and forth along the crack. The torch light from the adjacent room reflected eerily along the shoes of the person on the other side.

Hermione sat back and put her head in her hands.

"A suit of armor, you ninny."

Hermione heaved a sigh and slowly stood to her full height. She walked once more to the door ahead, and placed her hands against the rough, rotting wood. She groped along the surface until she came to the doorknob. It felt cold and medieval. In other words, big, rusty, and unrelenting.

She tugged on the latch, just in case. It didn't budge.

She turned on the spot and sidled along the wall, keeping her left hand firmly on the stone plane. As she walked, she ran her hand up and down, hoping to find some deviation in the unchanging pattern of cold rock and grout line.

When she reached the wall opposite the thin crack of light, Hermione finally felt something new. It was a candelabrum. It jutted from the wall suddenly, and it hurt her hand as it collided with the metal-laced device. She carefully ran her hand along every inch of it. It was spiked and decorated in the most evil of ways. Her mutinous mind immediately thought of a life-sized version of the decoration and how efficient of a torture device it could be.

She shook her head and reached above the empty candle holder. There was a window there. With bars.

Hermione turned back around to see if her vision had improved. It hadn't. She crouched down and began crawling in slow circles around the room, staying close to the wall and working her way inward with every lap she made. It didn't take long, the room was small.

When she didn't find anything resembling furniture, Hermione stood on tiptoe to look out the window. She could barely see over the edge while she tried to avoid impaling herself on the demonic candelabrum. She could only see the pale starlight above. She guessed it was nearly dawn.

She sat down and thought, allowing her brain to take control of the situation as it had many times before. It refused.

It couldn't see past the betrayal it had suffered.

Hermione felt her eyes burn again but forced herself to think of something other than the man whom she had wrongly trusted.

She got up and tugged at the door handle again, hopelessly.

The door opened.

* * *

"Harry?"

"What?"

"Harry, please get up."

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes blearily. "Ginny? What's the matter?"

Ginny stood beside him, holding her illuminated wand. "Hermione's gone."

Harry stared up at her with large eyes. "Come again?"

Ginny looked meaningfully at him.

Harry swore angrily and reached for his glasses and wand. He stood and tugged on jeans and a t-shirt. "How long has she been gone?"

Ginny curtailed a sniff. "I'm not sure."

"Does anyone else know?"

Ginny shook her head. "I thought to tell you first. Please be careful with Ron," Ginny placed a hand on Harry's shoulder as he headed next-door. "He can be…irrational."

A corner of Harry's lip curled. "Eight years," he reminded her, "I think I know that by now."

Premeditation didn't stop Ginny from cringing at her brother's roar of outrage.

* * *

Hermione didn't think she should move through the threshold. She _knew_ she shouldn't.

Even with all her years in the wizarding world, she had never come across a self-unlatching lock. Especially in a place that commanded imprisonment.

But thoughts of freedom smothered any rational thought her tired mind might have managed to find.

She crept forward.

The torchlight fell upon a stone hallway. There was no decoration and the passage ended with another closed, unfriendly door. Upon reaching it, Hermione pulled at the handle. The door swung open silently.

More torchlight flooded this hallway. It was as bare as the last, only longer. It, too, ended in an archway, though there was no impeding door. Stairs lead steeply down.

Hermione glanced back over her shoulder as her mind finally caught up with her eager feet. She weighed her options.

Await the Death Eaters.

Escape the Death Eaters.

Be recaptured by the Death Eaters while failing miserably at option two.

But like any strand of hope ever grasped by a human, the thought of escape overcame the lesser ones and filled Hermione's heart while she tip-toed down the cold staircase.

As she neared the bottom, she stopped and peered around the corner. Another bleak hallway. She began to wonder if she was even in the Malfoy Manor at all. Surely there should be some luxurious paintings or tapestries somewhere. The passageway didn't even smell like anything.

The silence was also unnaturally cumbersome. It seemed to overpower her senses and she thought for a moment that even if there was a commotion, it would be deafened by the quiet.

She took comfort in her hitched breathing.

She came to the end of the hall. Two doors stood in front of her. She opened both. One lead to a stairway leading up, the other, to a path leading down.

She chose the downward path, praying the two directions weren't secretly metaphors of Heaven and Hell.

* * *

Ron stomped around the living room, glaring at his housemates. His mother sat trembling on the sofa while Ginny tried to calm her. Sirius spoke urgently with Harry by the windows. Felix looked horribly sick, Edward mimicked Ron's steadfast march, and Tristan sat tapping his fingers indifferently, awaiting a verdict.

Sirius approached the front of the room and the two distraught marchers ceased their tramping. Tristan's fingers ceased drumming.

After a long moment of dreadful silence, Sirius spoke.

"We all have assumed where Hermione has gone. Now the only matter is retrieving her. Harry and I have been discussing how best to move forward."

Edward sank slowly into a vacant chair, eyes fixed on Sirius. Felix sighed shakily.

Sirius continued. "Several months ago, you three," he gestured at Felix, Edward and Tristan, "established bearings of the Malfoy Manor. If you can recall, please reiterate its set-up."

Edward jumped in willingly. Ginny experienced a sense of déjà vu while listening to the blue eye boy explain the Malfoy grounds once more.

"The east side is a camp ground for Death Eaters. I believe there were about twenty tents. On the west side is the forest. It expands for at least three miles before it hits the main road. The north and south sides are made up of gardens. The front of the house faces the north gardens. The eastern side of the house barely has windows, unless they are magically obscured."

Sirius nodded his thanks. "I am going to take Harry, Ron, Tristan and Edward. Felix, you will stay here with Ginny and Molly until Fred, George and Arthur arrive. You will then direct them to us."

Felix nodded and Ginny wished to argue but decided it was the best for her mother if she remained behind.

She watched the five men gather around, longing to go with them. Harry caught her look and pleaded silently for her to stay. She felt her heart fall and began to speak, but stopped when he shook his head. He conveyed to her a sense of promise that he would return. Mouthing "I love you," he turned with the others and Apparated.

* * *

Draco sat still, watching his father intently. Lucius gazed back.

They were seated across from each other in the study, both looking restless and uncomfortable under the other's scrutiny. Neither had the courage to look away.

Draco's fingers danced spasmodically along the arm of his seat, beating a nervous rhythm. He wished Lucius would say something, but at the same time, he didn't want to hear anything the older man had to say.

Steely grey eyes remained locked as the minutes ticked away.

After twenty minutes of unabated silence, Draco could stand it no longer.

"Why?"

Lucius started.

"Pardon me?"

"Why?"

Lucius considered the young man before him. His son looked ages younger and healthier since he last saw him several months ago. He also seemed much less submissive.

Draco returned the evaluating stare as he waited for an answer. His father looked wretched. His eyes were sunken and yellow. Bags cushioned them and his skin was paler than last time he had seen him. He looked thirty years older.

Lucius attempted to answer. "She is an Order member, we had to…" He broke off at Draco's contemptuous glare.

"I meant," the boy spat, "Why did you leave me?"

It was so similar to Narcissa's wild accusations that Lucius winced.

"I assure you, Draco that I do not know what you are referring to."

Draco laughed harshly. "I'm sure."

Lucius sighed. "Your mother wanted to know why your aunt and I abused and left you, too."

His son sat straighter at hearing of his mother. "Did you tell her the same codswallop?"

"Yes, only it is the truth. I can't begin to fathom why you believe so heartedly that Bellatrix and I would behave in such away, and especially for no known reason. You have done nothing but make me proud, Draco."

Draco's ears pricked at the foreign display of affection. "Rubbish."

"No, I'm telling you the truth. I know I've never been a good father. I'm absolutely abysmal. But you try your hardest to make me see otherwise and I only recently figured that out while you were away."

Draco couldn't believe it. Everything he had ever wanted to hear, the approval he had always wanted to see in his father's eyes, was making itself known right before him. And yet it seemed that the praise was years too late.

He stood, running a shaking hand through his hair. "You realize, don't you, that this speech should have been delivered when I was ten."

Lucius bowed his head shamefully. "Yes."

"It still doesn't explain the torture you put me through. I can't have imagined it."

Lucius stood to further his apologies when the door opened.

Draco, expecting his aunt, turned to sneer viciously, only to feel his blood run cold.

A pair of sinful red eyes bored into his from the threshold.

"Draco Malfoy," the thin voice seethed, "Welcome home."


	16. Labyrinth

I've brought my bubble of inspiration to a boil, it seems! And it looks as though things will be coming to a head very, very soon...

* * *

**Chapter 15: Labyrinth**

Hermione edged slowly around a corner. She hoped that the whispers had been conjured up by her overly excited ears. She couldn't hear them now.

The narrow staircase had deposited it her in a circular room comprised of several suits of armor. It reminded her of the gallery at Hogwarts, except it was, of course, several feet smaller in diameter. It was still extremely impressive.

A large, elaborately wrought iron chandelier hung from the towering ceiling. The candles that perched upon it glowed brightly, barely wavering. Hermione assumed they were everlasting.

All of the hollow figures around her stood absolutely still, shining brilliantly. Clearly, they were polished several times a week. Hermione could see her sneaking reflection in each highly glossed piece of metal.

Covering the walls were innumerous shields bearing several ancient crests. Swords and scabbards lay in pristine cases between the shields and suits of armor. The previously stone floors were covered with plush carpets.

Hermione began to accept that she was in Malfoy Manor.

As she reached the opposite side of the room, Hermione finally noticed that there was no exit. Cursing her luck, she turned to retrace her steps and gasped.

The door had disappeared.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had taught her to expect mystery. But she had never been a prisoner in Hogwarts, so all the current vanishing door achieved was to provide her with mad hysteria.

Before she could sob, however, the center carpet rolled away.

The stones that made up the floor underneath had been placed in a spiraling circular pattern. As Hermione watched, each large stone began to fall away, one at a time, until a spiraling staircase lead into darkness.

It was simple logic. The staircase provided the only viable means of leaving the armory.

Simple logic tended to lead to complicated fiascos, though.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and began her descent.

* * *

All of Draco's anger took a nastily decided turn into terror as Voldemort smiled at him.

Evil only smiled when it was about to win things.

"I see you're making amends with your father," Voldemort gestured to Lucius as he slowly made his way forward. "About time, too. We had all rather felt he'd left us for good."

Lucius forced a small smile. The Dark Lord's calm tone did little to mask his fury. He _had_ been upset with Lucius's lack of participation in the Death Eaters' dealings.

Draco, meanwhile, felt himself back away in a panic as Voldemort approached. The dark wizard tilted his head and smiled more broadly. "You don't seem pleased to be back where you belong, Draco."

Draco's mouth went dry. It felt as though someone had hexed him with a Tongue Sticking jinx. He had no reply to Voldemort's accusation. Those burning, snake eyes petrified him.

Lucius came to the rescue, albeit, reluctantly.

"The boy is shell-shocked, my Lord." Voldemort turned his cold smile on the elder Malfoy, clearly enjoying his feeble attempts to protect his son. "After all, the Order probably tortured him for information."

Voldemort laughed. The unnatural sound echoed terribly around the study. "Lucius, my dear, dear friend. You and I both know that the Order is much too pathetic to resort to torturing. Besides, one must only look at young Draco," he glanced around and Draco repressed a shudder, "to know that he was hardly put in any pain. Why, he looks healthier than he did while staying here."

Draco gulped. He knew what was coming, and it made his knees weak with anxiety.

Voldemort, now fully facing Draco, began to circle him slowly, eyes never leaving his face or head. He continued, smile gone. "You have a very lively glow about you, Draco. Do I dare suggest that life here was not to your liking? Perhaps my presence displeased you?"

He paused and waited for Draco to defend himself. Toying with a victim was always so…fun.

"Of course not, my Lord." Draco prayed his voice didn't shake too much as he answered softly.

"Then how do you explain your mysterious absence? Surely if life here didn't upset you, you wouldn't have run away."

Draco desperately wished he was still in the dusty old room in Black's house. He kept his eyes straight ahead, trying not to watch Voldemort in the mirror above the doors.

"Well?" All amusement was gone. A hissing whisper had voiced the question.

"My mother surely would have explained the reas—"

Voldemort suddenly appeared right in front of Draco, causing him to stumble backward into the chair he had recently vacated. "Your mother was a deluded wretch of a woman who spun dishonest tales. Her stories were weak, damned lies and excuses to flee."

Draco winced as Voldemort's fingers twitched toward his robes.

"I've not wasted my time finding and punishing her because, quite frankly, the whores of Death Eaters are only a step above blood traitors…mere scum to be ignored."

Draco, had Voldemort been anyone else, would have cursed him into oblivion for that. Even Lucius looked murderous where he lurked in the corner.

Voldemort stared at Draco, deliberating. "That being said, I'm not sure what to do with you, Draco Malfoy. Being Narcissa's son, I'd like nothing more than kill you right here."

Draco's heart nearly stopped.

"However," Voldemort scratched the side of his head lightly with a broken nail, "You are Lucius and Bellatrix's family as well. They are my most dear supporters."

Lucius's eyes widened hopefully.

"I suppose I will let you live. But know this. Lord Voldemort does not give warnings lightly. Nor does he judge without punishment. So consider yourself forewarned and terribly lucky, Draco Malfoy. If I ever feel you've disgraced me again…"

Voldemort trailed off and walked to the doors. Obviously he thought Draco could use his imagination to finish his unspoken threat.

Before leaving, he turned to Lucius. "I want you to put Draco somewhere that is out of my sight for the next few days. He'll have to earn my trust back…and I'll have to figure out he can best do this."

He left the room, leaving the two men to reflect on his words.

* * *

Felix rose from the other side of Mrs. Weasley and took up Ron and Edward's vacated space.

Ginny watched him sadly, knowing how fraught with nerves he must be. He adored Hermione and her disappearance was affecting him deeply. Ginny also thought she could imagine that he felt extremely confused by Hermione's sudden interest in Draco Malfoy. She, too, had found it a bit alarming.

Ginny had realized that Hermione had been growing a bit softer around Malfoy. She knew Hermione had been semi attracted to him, but had believed it was purely a phase. Maybe she just hadn't wanted to see the truth of the matter.

But what was stranger still, Hermione had also seemed just as fond of Felix as she had always been. Ginny's cheeks immediately reddened when she grasped that she had been just the same. She loved Harry deeply and wholly. She had ever since she had hard pressed her mother into letting her board the Hogwarts Express in Ron's first year so she could look at Harry again. Her adoration for him grew into love through the years they'd spent at school together, and she had never stopped loving him even while trying to hide it behind Dean Thomas.

And then she had met Edward Greene. And he was beautiful and new and exciting. Ginny shook her head, trying not to anger herself. She wished that she had escaped that phase sooner. It had taken her ages to understand that she was hurting Harry very much by constantly demanding attention from Edward.

The young Weasley sighed, drawing Felix's eye. She smiled encouragingly at him, hoping he understood what she was trying to say. The corner of his lip lifted halfheartedly while he continued pacing.

Suddenly he shook his head wildly and cried out. He spun around and bounded up the stairs to his room.

Ginny's heart broke for him. After a while, she allowed herself to frown worriedly. She knew who she loved completely…but who did Hermione love?

* * *

A squirrel scuttled quickly out of the way as four humans appeared as if from thin air and nearly trampled it. Leaves kicked up about their shoes and their cloaks swished along the mossy ground. As they steadied themselves, one of them spoke.

"Where's Tristan?" Sirius asked the others.

Ron, Harry and Edward looked around blankly. Tristan had disappeared.

"You don't suppose he went and splinched himself—do you?" Ron looked cautiously around their feet as though expecting to find an arm or ear half buried in the leaves.

Edward shook his head. "Tristan can apparate perfectly. Maybe he stayed behind to reassure Mrs. Weasley?" He, however, did not look thoroughly convinced of this.

Harry shrugged. "We can't spend our precious few hours searching for him. Let's just…"

Harry was cut off as Tristan came out from behind a tree. "So sorry, I accidentally concentrated on the spot we left Malfoy, not the front gate."

Sirius nodded. "Now that we're here, let's go over a few things."

Five minutes later Harry and Ron were trekking off to the south gardens, Sirius was approaching through the north gardens, Edward was edging through the forest in the west, and Tristan was sneaking through the Death Eater camp in the east. Harry and Ron were a bit reluctant to let one wizard creep around Death Eater tents, but after studying them, it was noted that the camp was empty.

As the two friends made their way around shrubbery, Harry was glad that Ginny was safe at home with Felix and Mrs. Weasley. He also prayed Mr. Weasley and the twins would arrive before things got out of hand.

Sirius had been vehement that this was merely a search and rescue. But Harry couldn't help but fear that tonight would hold bloodshed.

* * *

Hermione lost track of how long she was going down the stairs. It was never-ending.

And it was pitch black.

Hermione promised to never take advantage of a wand again…if she ever held one again.

She had to have been on the cold staircase for at least five minutes. She could feel the panic mounting. How far beneath the surface was she? She almost wanted to go back up, but she couldn't bring herself to backtrack further into the manor.

As her breathing began to overwhelm her, she sat down, defeated, on the step she was on. Maybe she would just die here. No one would ever find her. Perhaps in a hundred years Malfoy's great grand children would be playing in the armory when one of them triggered the spiraling staircase. Then they'd find her skeleton.

While she no longer fretted over escaping, Hermione's mind began to wander. Malfoy's thin, pale face floated up. Given the current hopelessness of the situation, Hermione was surprised to find that she still had a few tears to shed over the boy.

She tried to make up excuses. He had only hit her because he was put on the spot by the sudden, horrifying appearance of his father and aunt. The same two, whom, she reminded herself, tortured him in the first place. He had been scared and, corrupted since such a young age as he had been, lapsed back into the state of an approval seeking child.

Hermione snorted contemptuously. It was always easy to make excuses for those you cared about. And, she persisted; she didn't care about him anyway. Felix was the one she liked. Felix had kissed her, helped her, possibly loved her. Malfoy had been an interesting thought. An idea that never fully took flight.

Funny, she had never felt so badly about failed ideas before.

She shook her head and stood up. Not wanting to waste anymore time going down the stairs, she began to climb back the way she came. Almost straight away, she hit a door.

Cautiously, she opened it. The sight made her pinch herself.

For the hall she had entered into was only alike one she had ever seen. The hall from her dreams.

It was golden, it shined, it saturated her in light.

She couldn't stop her feet from moving.

The portraits regarded her curiously. She watched as the grand ladies and gentlemen followed along aside her, whispering rapidly into the next person's ear. Some curled their lips, eyes sweeping her from foot to face. Their rudeness served as the only reminder that she was still in Malfoy Manor. Such radiance shouldn't have been allowed to liven up such a death filled fortress.

Many had the same silver blonde hair that the current owners of the mansion had. As the generations progressed before her, however, Hermione saw that many of the Malfoy family had darker countenances. She supposed it may have been the Black side, Narcissa's side. Bellatrix Lestrange had come from the family, after all.

Hermione tried hard to take everything in. Multiple doors had lined the hallway, but she wasn't the least interested in searching behind any of them. The one at the end had caught her eye.

She prepared herself as she stopped before it. If behind this door stood a grand, glass staircase, Hermione wasn't sure if she'd rush upward or turn fleeing in fright. How in the dickens had she dreamt of the interior of the Malfoy Manor? It addled her to think that her dreams were premonitions. She always insisted that anything involving divination was for flighty fools of fancy. Lavender Brown was a prime example.

Yet still the door goaded her. She even thought she caught a few portraits whispering "Go on, open it" and nastier ones saying "Just turn the knob…you know, the round thing at waist height?"

Hand outstretched, Hermione closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Suddenly, the door on the right side of her flew open.

Whirling around, Hermione came face to face with Belletrix Lestrange.


	17. A Terror Drenched Heart

**Two and a half hours and a massive headache later, I give you chapter 16. **

**Oh em gee, guys, OH EM GEE. Hope you love it as much as I do ;) I'm off to find some aspirin.**

**Chapter 16: A Terror Drenched Heart**

* * *

Seconds inched away as the two women stared at each other.

Hermione wished she was still stuck on the Stairs of Eternity as savage black eyes bored back at her.

She felt her eyes widen until they could go no farther, felt her blood rush to her legs, pumped by her rapid heartbeat, and her bones numb. Any moment, she'd be dead.

Yet as the seconds continued by, she became aware that sweat had broken out over Bellatrix's forehead and her usually cruel, laughing eyes were wide with panic.

"What are you doing here?" Bellatrix's voice wavered as she demanded an answer.

Hermione couldn't move. Having Bellatrix Lestrange corner you was probably just as horrid an experience as having Voldemort find you alone. The woman's maddened look was enough to have you screaming in fear and running for cover.

The older witch seemed to collect herself in the time Hermione spent becoming jelly. She pulled out her wand and grasped Hermione's arm tightly.

"Come with me."

The two witches marched down the hall, back towards the spiral staircase. Before reaching it, though, Bellatrix opened a door on the right and shoved Hermione inside.

"You're to stay here…Mudblood."

Hermione watched as Bellatrix slammed the door shut and heard her lock it.

Soon, her footsteps faded.

Hermione still couldn't believe it. How had that happened? Why hadn't she been killed? Or at least tortured and dragged to Voldemort?

Hermione did dwell on these questions, supposing she should be thankful that neither had happened. She took to studying the room she was currently trapped in.

It was no different from the one she had started in. It was round and bland, a barred window the only deviation in the stone wall. Gone was the sinister candelabrum from the previous room. The main difference in the two rooms was the small bed that was shoved in the corner of this one.

Hermione sighed and tried the door knob just for the sake of it. Nothing happened, unsurprisingly. She walked to the window and tugged at the bars. Just as she thought, they were cemented tightly into the wall.

With nothing left to investigate, Hermione sank onto the bed and tried, unsuccessfully, not to cry. _Some heroine I'm turning out to be…_

* * *

Draco found himself pacing, as he had at Grimmauld Place, around the room his father had grudgingly moved him to after Voldemort's grave warning.

"I'll speak to the Dark Lord, Draco, see if I can get your situation cleared up."

Draco had merely shrugged at his father's hopeful words. Lucius attempted an encouraging smile, but had clearly found it too awkward. He'd left without another word.

Now, Draco hardly took notice of his surroundings as he tried to figure out what to do when Voldemort came knocking with a suitable punishment for him.

He'd only observed that it was a nice, comfortable, well-lit room. It was also luxuriously colorful.

The real task at hand would be to get away from the mansion yet again. That, and to find Hermione. Draco cringed as he remembered her frantic cries when he hit her. He shook his head…_stupid girl_, he thought sadly.

But she had kissed him. That, at least, merited some thought. He was still just as dazed by her action. And he couldn't pretend he hadn't wanted her to.

_Oh, bother…_

Everything was topsy-turvy anymore. Between his father's sudden appreciation of him and unexpectedly locking lips with Granger, Draco could hardly believe that he wasn't dreaming it all.

He hoped that she was alright, but knew better. If she was still alive, it wouldn't be long until someone downstairs changed that.

* * *

"Have you dealt with him yet?"

"No, I just got here a few minutes ago and ran into an—obstacle."

"Well, stop messing around. The others are bound to find we've gone missing."

Hermione woke up to the strained voices of Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange urgently conversing outside of her door. She'd fallen asleep at least twenty minutes ago.

"I'm not messing around, _Lucius_," Bellatrix snapped. "I was busy dealing with Hermione…"

"I don't care what you were doing. We need to kill the little prick before this gets anymore out of hand."

Hermione gasped. She crept forward to listen more closely.

"With Potter and his friends snooping around so closely this is bound to get out of control no matter how quickly we kill the git."

A sharp crack sounded, followed by a yelp of surprise and pain.

"You'll do well to keep your voice down, _Bella_, we'd not want anyone overhearing."

Hermione could hear Bellatrix muttering incoherently in reply. Lucius snorted. "Just get on with it. I have to go distract the Dark Lord…unless you want to do that instead while I kill Draco?"

Hermione had a hand clamped tightly over her open mouth, trying to keep her breathing under control, persuaded that the two on the other side of the door would soon discover their eavesdropper. She closed her eyes in relief when they continued talking, completely unaware of her position.

"No," Bellatrix was saying quickly, almost fearfully. "I'll kill Draco."

"I thought so. Go."

Hermione listened as Lucius stalked off down the hall, toward the Stairs of Eternity. A door closed, heralding his exit from the hall.

Bellatrix could still be heard shuffling her feet nervously outside the door behind which Hermione stood. Hermione tip-toed quickly back to the bed and lay down, just in case Bellatrix decided to enter the room. If she found Hermione with her ear against the door, she'd only kill her faster.

But Bellatrix Lestrange did not come into Hermione's room. Instead, she went tramping off after Lucius, still muttering under her breath.

If Hermione had been frightened before, it was nothing compared to the terror that drenched her heart now. Bellatrix and Lucius were planning on murdering Draco—their own blood. Their excitement upon finding him in the woods had been a hoax! They were no different from the cruel monsters that had tortured him and left him for dead all those months ago. Now they only wished to finish the job.

Not caring much for her own safety, Hermione began traveling around the room, tapping on bricks, hoping to find a way out. She tugged at the bars, cursing at them as that remained snuggly fixed into the wall. She inspected the stones of the floor, looking for another staircase. She even tugged at the door handle several times more, just in case it decided to open.

When nothing worked, Hermione refused to sit down and cry. She brushed her frizzing hair away from her eyes, frustrated.

One alternative remained to be seen. Hermione knew it was the only one that'd work, but she hesitated as she stood in front of the door and stared at the handle. It would leave her weaker than she was now…

_It wasn't Felix who calmed you down. It was Draco._

Ginny's words from so long ago gave her the resolve she needed.

Straightening to her full height, concentrating her full attention on the handle, Hermione began chanting _Alohomora_ over and over again; thankful Bellatrix and the others hadn't considered wandless magic. Or maybe they just didn't know who they were dealing with…

Hermione felt her energy dropping slowly. She kept her eyes on the door, forcing them to stay open. Finally, she heard a tiny click…freedom.

Hermione broke focus and leaned heavily on the door. Her legs were having a hard time supporting her weight and dots swam in her vision.

Regaining a little strength, Hermione opened the door a peered around the corner. Finding no one ready to ambush her, she started off down the hall for the door she had been regarding when Bellatrix had discovered her, ignoring the excited whispers coming from the portraits on either side of her.

When she reached the door, she didn't hesitate for a moment. Opening it, she was only minutely shocked to see that a gorgeous glass staircase and mirrored walls did indeed lie behind it.

* * *

Edward dodged between trees, always alert for movement.

The house was looming ever closer and with each step he took, his heart rate seemed to double.

At the edge of the trees, he lifted his wand and pointed it at the expanse of land in front of him.

"_Aperio_."

Nothing happened. Voldemort still didn't believe in enchantments. Edward was a bit surprised. He figured the Malfoys would have at least put some sort of protection on the manor when Draco had disappeared.

Keeping his wand out, Edward approached the windows, casting a Disillusion Charm over himself.

Lucius and Bellatrix were sitting at a table in the massive kitchen, deep in discussion.

Yet, they seemed thoroughly at ease. Lucius was even smiling. Tiredly, yes, but it was a happy smile all the same.

Something told Edward that it wasn't because Lucius had further tortured his son…

He kept an eye on the two in the kitchen while remaining alert of his surroundings. Soon, Bellatrix and Lucius walked out completely relaxed. There was nothing in their body language to suggest Draco's return had angered them.

Edward began to believe that perhaps they hadn't found Draco at all. His hopes soared. If they hadn't found Draco, then they hadn't found Hermione.

_Perhaps Hermione didn't come here at all_, his mind suggested hopefully.

But his gut kept saying different. Hermione was here…he just didn't know where.

Figuring he should find Sirius or Harry and Ron, Edward back away from the kitchen windows and began to circle the house, praying everything was going well for everyone else.

* * *

An hour had passed since Harry and the others had trekked out to collect Hermione, and none of them had returned or sent word of their findings.

Ginny was beginning to grow restless while wandering around the house looking for something to do. She had grown weary of her mother's sniffles, having tried everything she could think of to calm the fretful matriarch down. So, Ginny had left her mother busying about the kitchen in pursuit of taking her mind off the situation.

Yet her boring walk around the house hadn't improved her mood at all.

Her father and brothers should have arrived by now to follow Harry to the Malfoy's, but they hadn't turned up yet.

Ginny sighed and left the library, not really realizing she was in the library. She decided to visit Felix, to see how he was feeling. Perhaps they could both skulk together.

When she reached his door, she found it standing ajar, and one glance inside told her he wasn't currently home. Thinking he'd went to the kitchen to check on Molly, Ginny retraced her steps back downstairs and into the kitchen.

Her mother had abandoned her previous ministrations for sitting in a chair, staring blankly at the wall. She wasn't crying anymore, but her fidgeting fingers gave away her agitation.

Felix wasn't in this room either.

"Mum, have you seen Felix?" Ginny remained standing in the doorway, hoping to avoid another one of her parent's breakdowns.

"No, dear, I haven't. Did you try his room?"

"Yes, and he isn't there."

"He's probably in the potion room. Poor dear…he likes Hermione so." At this statement, Ginny's mother began crying again, harder than before.

"It's alright mum; Sirius will get everyone home safely. And dad will be here shortly."

Ginny tried to keep her tone encouraging, but knew her mother wasn't listening. She left the kitchen and headed for the potion room, hoping that Felix, at least, was thinking clearly.

He wasn't there.

Ginny felt as though he wasn't in the house anymore.

_Enough is enough,_ she told herself as she grabbed a traveling bag from the cupboard just inside the door. _I'm going too_.

Ginny made her way over to the store cupboard. She grabbed a vial of Dittany and was just about to reach for some Felix Felicis when she heard three people apparate successively into the room.

"What are you doing, Ginny?"

"I'm tired of waiting for news," Ginny growled without looking at the speaker, "So I'm going too. I'm an adult now and you can't say no to me."

Arthur watched his daughter's rigid back before replying. "Fine then. Fred, tell your mother that Ginny is going."

Ginny looked over her shoulder, taken aback by her father's quick acquiescence. Fred didn't seem thrilled to give his mother the news, but left anyway.

George joined Ginny at the cupboard. "Got everything?"

"Just about…did you guys use the last of the liquid luck?"

Arthur appeared at her side. "No…Hermione and Felix brewed some not three days ago."

"Well there's none here. The Polyjuice Potion is gone too."

"We may have used the last of that a few weeks ago," George said uncertainly.

Arthur shook his head. "No time to dawdle now. Let's go meet Fred upstairs and apparate."

A fresh round of sobs from the kitchen met their ears as the threesome entered into the main hall. Fred was standing, ashen-faced, by the ugly umbrella stand.

"We'd better go before she storms out here after you, Ginny."

"Right then," Arthur clapped his hands together, "To Malfoy Manor."

* * *

Hermione stared at her reflection, trying to orient herself. It was rather disconcerting, watching one's self climb stairs from twenty different angles. Hermione stumbled several times while watching the wrong pair of feet mount the steps ahead.

Finally, she managed to reach the top by closing her eyes and gripping the glass railing for support.

A solitary door awarded her efforts.

Hermione knew who was behind that door.

She just wasn't sure she wanted to see him, let alone save him. He had never been any prince of hers, no matter how much her subconscious wanted him to be.

Only her compassion and Lucius's chilling plans allowed her to open the door.

He was sleeping again. He lay on his stomach with an arm curled under his head, stretched across an enormous bed covered in deep green blankets and silver pillows.

As she watched him sleep, Hermione began to feel her angry resolve softening. She frowned to herself, wishing he'd been awake. He was so—inviting—when he was asleep. She felt as though she could sit there and talk to him for hours while he was this way, and that somehow, he'd understand perfectly.

An abrupt, overwhelming desire to curl up next him overcame her. She didn't want to feel this way about Draco Malfoy. She didn't want her heart to beat frantically, as it was now, every time she saw him. She didn't want to long to touch his face or run her fingers through his hair as they so desperately itched to.

She wanted to hate him as she always had. She wanted to slap him again or call him names. She wanted to go back.

She didn't want to walk over to his side like her feet were making her do so now. Didn't want to sit down. Didn't want to enjoy whatever cologne he used. Didn't want him…

She didn't want to want him.

But she did.

And her stern, logical mind surrendered when he rolled over, still asleep, and sighed.

And her heart took charge.

She reached over and stroked his hair, alleviating the longing her fingers felt.

She didn't remember why she was here, but she didn't really care at the same time.

It felt nice not to worry about anything or feel anything except the feeling of Draco's hair on her fingertips.

Eventually, though, she let her hands settle onto her knees. In the course of her absentmindedness, she had managed to climb further onto the bed until her back was against the headboard and her legs were propped up so that she could hug her legs to her chest.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

"Why did you stop?" He inquired in a muffled response.

Hermione looked down to see him staring up at her from beneath his bangs, still lying with his arm under the side of his face.

The spell he seemed to weave while sleeping didn't lessen its hold on her.

"I don't know."

Draco yawned and sat up, his hair disheveled from his nap. A waft of his scent found Hermione's nose and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

"Draco, I…"

She didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"I came to warn you about your murderous family" seemed a bit harsh.

When she couldn't finish, Draco simply looked at her.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded.

"Why are you here?" He sounded upset and worried.

"I was searching for you."

Again her heart was pounding a furious rhythm, almost propelling her toward him.

She began to fear the pull he had on her.

But he didn't seem to notice or care. Instead, he leaned over and kissed her, softly, on the lips, obligingly deepening it when her hands came to his face and then his neck.

Her fear flying out of the window, Hermione was fully aware of her arms looping around his neck and her legs shifting along with his so that they were both now kneeling on the bed, flush against each other. She was aware of his hands were on her lower back, pressing her into him. Aware of her dastardly fingers returning to his hair.

_But,_ her mind tried to bellow over the roar of her pulse, _it's Malfoy!_

Hermione let her heart get this one.

_Oh, shut up._


	18. Click

**Hiya all! I know it's been long. But it's winter break now. Although, this isn't much of a break made for writing. I'm going to Egypt in January for two weeks, so I won't be able to update as much as I want, and I apologize about that! **

****

**I hope this update is enjoyed. It's a bit shorter than the past couple of updates, but I hope it holds you over until I can get some juicier revelations in order ;) Thanks for waiting and sticking with me for the past 2 years. I love you all!**

* * *

Chapter 17: Click

Hermione was convinced her brain had become frustrated enough to deliver an electrical charge to the rest of her body.

Or that's how it felt, anyway, when she suddenly recalled how dire life had become recently.

She pulled away from Draco reluctantly. Her heart sulked.

Draco opened his eyes and looked at her. He seemed confused by the proceedings, but nonetheless pleased by the way he had handled them. Hermione almost rolled her eyes at the ghost of a smirk on his lips. Typical.

"Why did you stop?" He asked again.

Hermione looked toward the door, frowning. Draco followed her gaze and sighed.

"Oh."

Hermione suddenly felt tears teasing her eyes. "Your father…aunt…"

Draco snorted. "They're just happy they don't have to worry about Voldemort's wrath anymore."

Hermione would have found Draco's use of the dark wizard's name thoroughly startling had it not been for the eardrum shattering curse that blew through the adjacent door.

Both of them shouted as the force threw them sideways onto the floor. They were covered in splintered wood and dust.

"Are you alright?" Draco grunted at her while he struggled to his feet.

"I think…LOOK OUT!"

Draco dropped flat to his stomach just in time to dodge another curse. Cursing, he rolled away from Hermione and scrambled to his feet. He leapt over her and Hermione heard him hit the floor to avoid further curses.

_Neither of us has a wand…_

The revelation sickened her. How could they win this fight?

Hermione clenched her fists and pushed herself up as well. Turning around she saw Bellatrix standing where the door once stood, her face twisted into an ugly sneer.

"DIE VERMIN," she screeched again, firing another curse into the room.

Hermione yelped and jumped behind the bed before the curse could touch her. She realized it would have completely missed her, though. Bellatrix seemed to be cursing blindly in her rage.

Before Hermione could vacate the bed, Bellatrix was upon her screaming viciously.

"How could you? Who the hell do you think you are you little bitch! After every—"

Hermione felt her breath expulsed from her chest when Draco landed on both the fighting women. Slowly, she felt the clawing older woman forced away from her. She sat up, chest heaving , to see Draco wrestling with his aunt.

"Run, Hermione!" He gasped while Bellatrix lashed at his face furiously.

Oh, how she wished she could. Instead, Hermione clambered over and helped him control he writhing woman.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Another curse exploded from Bellatrix's wand. By the time they had both recovered, Bellatrix was bearing down on Draco, laughing hysterically.

"Finally," she spat, walking up to the fallen boy, "You little prick. I'm going to kill you. You have no idea how long I've wanted to throttle you in your sleep. Living in the same house as you has been complete hell. I'm going to destroy you!"

She lifted her wand.

Hermione didn't know how she had moved so quickly.

But here she was, between Bellatrix Lestrange and Draco Malfoy, two enemies.

Funny, when she had imagined situations that even began to mimic this, Ron or Harry had been behind her.

Hermione kept her eyes squeezed shut and her face buried in Draco's shoulder. His warmth was semi-comforting. His cologne tickled her nose and calmed her terrified mind. Dying here would be okay…

But a spell never erupted from Bellatrix's wand. Instead, a shocked gasp issued from her mouth. Hermione chanced a glance at the mad woman. She was staring down at the both of them, wand arm raised, mouth opened. She shook her head and lowered her wand.

"Get out of the way, girl," she whispered, horrified.

"No." There was much resolve behind this declaration.

"MOVE!"

"NO!"

"Please." Bellatrix was pleading now. Tears were streaming down her face.

Hermione frowned as she stood, making sure to keep Draco behind her. "Why do you want to kill him? He's your blood."

Bellatrix's familiar maddened rationale seemed to return. "Don't talk to _me_ about blood! You, _you_ who knows nothing of purity!"

It took only this brief, passionate outburst for Hermione to sprint headlong at the crazed witch. Not the smartest move to ever grace her mind, but it would have to do. And surprise was effective.

Ignoring Draco's shouts of protest and Bellatrix's enraged snarl, Hermione slammed her body into the other woman's reaching for the wand.

Bellatrix, however, spun with Hermione's force and sent the girl into the wall behind them. Hermione's movements had allowed Draco to attempt the same. Bellatrix sent him careening through the hole in the wall.

Hermione lifted her aching head to look at Bellatrix's now faded form. Her eyes swam, her ears rang, but a distant memory taunted her from the sidelines…

Something about Bellatrix's actions was horribly unnatural.

And she remembered Draco saying that he couldn't hit his father or aunt with spells.

And that he was an excellent aim.

She watched Bellatrix climb through the hole after Draco.

"Draco! She's taken Felix Felicis!"

Hermione fought screaming muscles and tired bones to get off the floor. She tore through the hole and ran past Bellatrix. Draco had managed to get down most of the stairs, away from Bellatrix's advance. Hermione went as fast as she could, praying to reach the bottom safely with Draco.

"You can't leave here," she heard Bellatrix screech from above, "I can't miss you!"

Time stopped around Hermione when she heard the first indication of glass shattering. She ceased running only for a moment, stunned from the impossibility of what she knew was happening behind her. Her breath came in pants and she peered back over her shoulder to see a wave of glass surging toward her.

She didn't hear Draco yell. She turned back toward him just has he grabbed her wrist and wrenched her down the remaining stairs.

The world was silenced under the thunder of the stairwell.

Blood trickled into Hermione's eyes as she followed blindly behind Draco.

The walls and ground rumbled with the sheer power of the raining mirrors and Hermione lost hope of surviving. Bellatrix had taken liquid luck and the room was exploding around them.

But Draco had reached the bottom. He had pulled her into a niche and pushed her against the wall, covering her body with his own.

When the earth stopped shaking and the room was quiet, Draco opened his eyes and loosened his hold on the girl shivering between him and the wall. He turned around.

The glass looked like powder, like snow. Only a few large chunks remained, some scattered about the dust, others hanging precariously from the walls. The air seemed to glisten from the dust that had not yet touched the ground. For a moment, it was beautiful.

But then Hermione slumped against the wall and sound returned. Bellatrix had now magically magnified her voice so that it was booming around the Manor, alerting all the people inside and out.

"Hermione," Draco shook the shocked girl violently, "Granger, we have to move."

She looked at him, whimpered, and slid to the ground.

Draco pulled her back up, only to find that her back was soaked in blood.

"Bloody hell," he choked, turning her around. A huge gash spread between her shoulders where the ravaging glass had pierced her skin. "Granger," he pleaded, "you've got to wake up, we need to get out!"

Panic was setting in. Panic he hadn't known since he had woken up in the Order.

Suddenly, Bellatrix's voice had stopped and Draco was hideously aware that in a few seconds, it wouldn't matter if Hermione was healed or not. They'd both be dead momentarily.

Hermione coughed. "Apparate."

Draco winced. "I can't in here."

"You must."

"But…"

"Think."

She closed her eyes again.

There was one room.

A room not restricted by charms meant to stall Apparation.

Draco picked her up.

He only needed to step in.

He needn't be there more than a second.

He could do it. He just needed to get outside while everyone converged on the stairwell, and he could hear footsteps now.

He began his trek into the hallway of his ancestors. He didn't look at any of them as they watched him carry the wounded girl. He ignored their hisses of outrage as her blood fell on their floor.

He needed to get to Voldemort's rooms.

* * *

**Chapter 17: Click**


End file.
